


The Sound of Bloodshed

by Rogueangelll



Category: 18th Century CE RPF, Alexander Hamilton - Ron Chernow, American Revolution RPF, Hamilton - Miranda, Historical RPF
Genre: Accurate historical appearance, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angry Sex, Angst, Angstangstangst, Bottom Alexander Hamilton, Coming of Age, Domestic, Fluff, Gay John Laurens, Gay Parents, Historical appearance Hamilton, History, John Laurens’ amazing daughter, LEAVE HIM ALONE, Laurens isn’t perfect ok, Light Masochism, M/M, Military, Porn With Plot, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, RPF, Smut, Top John Laurens, War, Zombie Apocalypse, Zombies, sorry this can be porn sometimes
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-27
Updated: 2018-10-23
Packaged: 2019-07-03 08:48:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 12
Words: 23,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15815505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rogueangelll/pseuds/Rogueangelll
Summary: Hamilton and Laurens just wanted to finally settle.  They spent years together, waiting to be officially married by law.  Just when everything is going good, it all goes to hell.It all happened so quickly.  One moment this wonderfully imperfect couple is napping on the couch to wait out a black-out, the next they are launched into the unreal reality of an apocalypse.  And their daughter, Frances, is too.





	1. A Loving Family

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> PSA this is historical appearance

2007

•••

"Alex!"Laurens called his husband, "Alex!"

"I'm coming, I'm coming!" Hamilton called back, a hint of annoyance in his voice. All of the annoyance faded when he stepped into the living room.

"Look at Fran!" Laurens proclaimed, "Isn't she just the cutest?"

"Oh my God," Hamilton chuckled and walked towards their daughter, who was wearing a headband with large yellow flower petals. Her light, curly hair bounced out in every direction.

"Alex!" She waddled to Hamilton and stumbled into his arms.

"Told ya she‘s a sunflower," Hamilton chuckled and lifted the small toddler up as Frances giggled. The three-year-old was very frail and it was difficult for her to walk like most toddlers.

"Was it worth making you get out of your office?" Laurens smirked.

"It was."

"Good.”

"Oh," the realization hit Hamilton, "speaking of office, when is Fran's appointment?"

Laurens checked his watch and a cursed under his breath. "An hour," he proclaimed, "thanks for reminding me. We should get ready."

The couple took the headpiece off the giggling toddler and Laurens pulled her out of her pajamas.

"See?" Laurens cooed to his waddling daughter, "Much better, beautiful little baby."Frances squeaked in joy.

"Dada!" Frances chirped, making Laurens' heart melt. He loved it when she called him 'Dada', she had learned it sometime after her first birthday. By now, she was speaking full sentences.

"It's almost noon!"Hamilton called from the bedroom. Laurens picked Frances up and carried her into the bedroom with him.

"You almost ready, then?" Laurens questioned.

"Yeah, let me just," Hamilton leaned into the mirror and combed his red hair back so the curls slicked neatly back, "there."

"We should go now, it's a half hour drive to the city.”

"I'm coming— J, what about you? You're not even dressed!" Hamilton laughed and Laurens sighed. "I'll put Frances in her car seat and get the car running so you can get ready."

"Thanks," Laurens handed Frances over and gave Hamilton a peck on the cheek before going quickly to the dresser.

"Alex," Frances stuck out her lips and groaned in exasperation, "where going?"

"To your doctor's appointment," he said, and she giggled, wiggling around in his arms.

Laurens quickly got dressed and combed his hair— freshly cut, faded and longer on top and a dark blond, looking quite nice with his blue eyes— and stared at himself in the mirror on the bureau. He bit his lip and smiled at the quiet realization that he felt oddly happy.

He finally got into the passenger seat of the car with a sigh, prompting Hamilton to grin.

"What's so funny?" he asked.

"You're just so flustered.”

"Yeah, I'm a hard-working dad," Laurens smiled, making the two bubble with soft laughter once more. Frances just kept her eyes focused on her Leap Pad book as it read aloud to her. She tried to read along, but her words came out a bit jumbled. Hamilton chuckled.

"Why do we get such loud toys for her?" Hamilton asked.

"It was your idea. You wanted her to be ahead of the other kids in when she starts pre-school," Laurens reminded him.

"Yeah, I know," he groaned in response. Laurens just rolled his eyes and pulled out his phone.

"Interstate is jammed, there was a car crash," he said, reading off of the news on his phone, "fu— freaking iPhone software.2g service sucks."

"I hate that stupid phone.Just use a flip phone.”

"Whatever.Flip-phones don't have news.And at least it's in the opposite way we need to go. Hopefully, it'll be cleared up by the time we get home."

"Yeah, hopefully.”

"Jam!" announced Frances proudly, looking up from her book.

"Yep," Hamilton said, "the road is jammed."

"Oh," she sighed, sending the couple back into a fit of laughter.

By the time they had gone to the doctors, received a prescription, and started their way back home, the highway had cleared, much to the couple's relief. They stopped for lunch on the way as well, but unfortunately, three-year-olds are messy eaters when it comes to burgers.

"Frances needs a bath, will you go pick up her prescription from Rite Aid?" Laurens asked when they got home.

"Sure, baby, do you need anything else?" Hamilton pulled his jacket back on.

"No, just be careful.The roads are still a little icy from when it rained last night," Laurens warned.

"Hopefully the rest of it will melt in the next week or so. Love you!"

"Hopefully.I love you.”

Laurens helped his giggling Frances into the bath as he cooed at her. She sat down and clapped at the warm water.

"Your face is all messy," Laurens stuck out his tongue playfully and gently took a rag to wipe the dried tuna off her lips and chin. "You know, it's such a wonder that you can get ketchup on the back of your neck.”

Frances just giggled and cooed and moved her arms and legs happily. "Dada," she looked up at him and held up a rubber duck. "Duck!"

"Duck," Laurens repeated with a nod, pointing to the yellow toy.

"This is duck," she smiled.

"That's right, duck."

"Duck has name, Dada."

"What's the duck's name?"

"Peggy!" She giggled. It sounded less like 'Peggy' and more like 'Betty', but it was progress.

"Peggy? Like auntie Peggy?"

"Peggy!" She repeated proudly, "Duck is Peggy! Peggy, Peggy, Peggy."

Laurens carefully washed his daughter's blonde, curly hair, careful not to get any soap lower than her forehead. Once he finished and rinsed her up, he dried her off with a fluffy towel and got her dressed in clean clothes and a new diaper.

Laurens had originally put Frances down on the carpet to play with her stuffed animals, but she soon began to cry, so he just let her follow him around while he did the laundry.

"What you doin'?" she asked, sitting down on the floor of the laundry room. Laurens grinned, picked her up, and set her down on top of the dryer.

"I'm cleaning the clothes," he told her as she began to kick her feet against the dryer.

"Oh," she continued kicking, "'cause if is dirty, I can't wear it, right?"

"Right," he confirmed, wincing at the sound of the kicking. It suddenly faded when Frances decided to stand on top of the dryer rather than sitting. "Oh, no," he grabbed her and made her sit back down, "no standing on the dryer."

"Why?"

"Because you could get hurt."

"Why?"

"Because you'd fall..." He felt heat creeping up to his face, though chills brushed his arms. A nostalgic feeling swelled within him— he tried pushing it away.

"Why?"

"Because it's difficult to balance on top of there."

"Why?" she asked one last time and Laurens huffed but kept his trembling smile.

Suddenly, loudly, "I'm home!" Hamilton declared, the door opening in the kitchen. Laurens mumbled something about 'saved by the bell' as he picked Frances off of the dryer.

"You hear that?" Laurens cooed to Frances, "Alex is home!"

"Alex home!" she squealed, and Laurens held her hand as they both walked out to greet Hamilton, who was hanging up his spring jacket and setting a couple of grocery bags on the counter. Laurens picked Frances up and put her on his back.

"Frances didn't want to play, she wanted to do chores with dad," Laurens sighed with a smile and plucked his daughter off of his back. Frances reached out and whined. "But now she wants you!" he declared and handed the child to Hamilton.

"Hey, Franny-Pack!" Hamilton cooed as Frances giggled and reached for his nose. Laurens shot him a dirty look, he hated when Hamilton called his daughter that.

Laurens looked through a couple of bags on the counter and pulled out the orange pill bottle.

"I feel bad, y’know, having to give these to her," Laurens grumbled.

“I know.”

Hamilton set Frances down in her high chair as she squirmed. He turned to Laurens and brushed his cheek gently.Laurens jerked his face away, crossing his arms to stare down the shorter man.

"Right.Just like we can't afford to move somewhere that would let us get married like—" he sighed, realizing his wording though he went on, "like a real couple."

"We are a real couple," Hamilton argued.He knew it was pointless so he turned away.

Laurens mashed up the pill and sprinkled it into Frances' applesauce. She had to take it twice a day— one at breakfast and one at dinner.

Frances ate her applesauce unknowingly with a happy face (getting messy in the process, undoing Laurens' hard work,) as Hamilton massaged Laurens' shoulders.They stood nearby in the small kitchen.

"You've been so tense lately, J," Hamilton murmured.

"It's stressful waiting in the hospital and doctor's office all the damn time," he groaned, "deja vu, it gives me bad memories. I just want... the best for her."

"I know you do," he pecked his cheek, "I know you do. I do too. Hey, how about I take a day off from work and—"

"No," Laurens cut him off, "we're already tight on money as it is, that'd be unnecessary."

"G-Wash would understand.”

"Please, just go to work. You can treat me on the weekends but as it is, I'm fine," Laurens sighed and forced a smile.

Hamilton shook his head, "I know you're not... but if that's what you want."

"Thank you."

"All for you," Hamilton kissed Laurens, "why don't you take a nap, Franny Pack and I'll watch some Sesame Street."

"Fine," Laurens didn't bother to correct him, he was too tired to care about his annoying nick-names.

Hamilton smiled and took Frances from her high chair, wiping her face with a baby wipe.

Laurens, at last, took a break to nap, but couldn't help but feel guilty about giving his small toddler doses instead of what he knew would probably help her better.

• • •

Nine years later

April 17th, 2016

\---

The power had been out for days because of something going on in the city.Well, the whole state had no power, except for restaurants and businesses with generators. Laurens and Hamilton didn't really worry about that, though, since it was spring and they didn't need heat. They made a game out of pretending with Frances that they were back 'in the olden days' as Hamilton had put it.The twelve-year-old wasn't too fond of the game.

Since there was no television and no internet, the couple spent their time playing board games and coaxing Frances to read. They ignored their phones and only occasionally looked on to check them if there were messages from family. Unfortunately, no computer or television meant they couldn't see if there were any updates on the power company restoring the power.

But the news began to worry them.People were sick, it said a week ago, but the US government was handling it. 

Two days ago, they both received National Alerts on their phones, saying that the sick were quarantined and everything was under control.But, the news said that sick people were not contagious by an airborne disease, and thus had no reason to be quarantined.Meanwhile, other sources stated that the disease was merely some sort of rabies first spread by bats—which lead into an environmental discussion about the bat population and industrialization killing the earth.

Shit was fucked, Laurens had said, and so they decided not to stress about it.After all, the government had it under control, right?And neither of them were at risk of getting sick anyway.

Well, they stressed just a little bit when Hamilton was put on unpaid leave, and Laurens had a friend from the military—from so many years ago—try to reach out to him.But, his former general didn’t ask about the disease.His former general only asked about his personal life—who he was married to, how his daughter was, et cetera.So Laurens figured that if von Steuben was so calm, then everything must be all right, right?

Hamilton and Laurens knew that Laurens' sister, Martha, didn't have power either. She lived in North Carolina. Aunt Peggy— Hamilton's best friend— lived closer, but still a couple of states away in West Virginia. She was the youngest and was kind of cast out because of her history of unreliability.Her two older sisters were close friends though they had actual lives.Angelica and her boyfriend were in London and Eliza was in nursing school in the city.

Laurens had fallen asleep on a late Saturday afternoon, sprawled out on the couch.He and Hamilton decided to rest.After all, neither were working and it would be nice to finally just relax together.Hamilton sat awake, gently running his fingers through his husband's blond hair. Such a beautiful name—husband.They got married the second they could.It was so beautiful.He smiled fondly and continued to pet his head.He was reading Macbeth when a scream outside startled him.

His eyes widened and he got off the couch.He looked out to see what it was.Some crazy driver tore down their street, nearly hitting a woman on their way.She cursed and gave the car the finger.Then, Hamilton looked up towards the city.It was far in the distance but he thought he saw something like smoke—a fire, perhaps—or just a factory.But did the factories smoke like that?

He opened up his phone to about a dozen notifications from Twitter and Facebook, and a couple of texts.

 

Peggy: **Cometo my house.ASAP. No Qs**

Angelica: **Is everything all right?  Some sketchy shit was happenin on the news over there and we were wondering if you guys were okay. Call me?**

 

He ignored the texts and went to look at the news.The flood of information and pictures and videos startled him.

"J,” Hamilton said frantically, making Laurens slowly awaken from where he napped on the couch, "John, wake up, please!"

"What?" Laurens mumbled, confused.

"Look," he pointed to the window. A loud noise boomed outside, making Laurens immediately bolt awake. How fucking perfect, he thought.He ran down the hall of the home, startled when he was met was a panicked Frances.

"Dad?" Her voice hit a higher octave, inquiring and worried.It was like she was asking for all the answers.She was looking up to her dad—who didn’t know what to do.

"The fucking was that?" Laurens questioned. "Check the news.Shit.Lex?"

"We need to leave," Hamilton said frantically while he grabbed Frances' hand.

"We can't leave! What's going on?" Laurens jumped from the couch and looked out the window, his hand shooting over to his waist immediately—as though he could really have something to protect himself with.Fuck. The loud booming noise he had heard before was evidently from some sort of explosion that had occurred very far away, toward the city.

"Lock the doors," Hamilton whispered.

"W-what?"

"Lock the doors, Frances!" Hamilton shouted. Frances furrowed her eyebrows as she locked the front door and the back door while Laurens fumbled with the windows.

"What is going on?" Laurens hissed.

“Yeah, what the hell is going on?” Frances crossed her arms.

“Fran! Language!” Laurens warned.

Frances rolled her eyes, “What the heck is going on?”

"There are people out there, in the city, going crazy..." Hamilton rummaged through the cupboards.

“Crazy?” Laurens had his hands on Frances’ shoulders. She shrugged them away.“I know they said that something was up like, a week ago.People getting sick—but they said that it was nothing to worry about.Have you seen the news lately?”He pulled out his phone.

“Sick?Like zombies?” Frances asked a bit too excitedly. She was definitely Laurens’ daughter.

“I was watching the news on my phone after I heard the first explosion, and they said it was like rabies. It began in the city.But yeah, they said not to worry, but—”

"Can we get it?" Laurens asked, eyes wide.

"I have no idea... they said it wasn’t airborne, remember?”

"How’s it spread, then?What does it do? What about Frances?" Laurens asked, "What if she gets it?"

“Dad!” Frances looked horrified.

"I think the bigger question is where we're going to get her prescription... how much is left in that bottle?"

"Twelve or so pills, last time I checked."

"We'll have to see how this plays out... if it's safe enough, I can stop at the store, that is if it hasn't been raided or anything."

"Raided?" he asked, glancing down at his daughter.

"Look at it out there!" Hamilton pulled the curtain back, "It's all gone to hell!"

"I see that!" Laurens shouted back, stressed. Frances closed her eyes.“I’m not stupid— but it’s— they said it’d be fine on the news.We’re fine.It’s fine.”

"Maybe.I don’t know.People were freakin’ out on Twitter and stuff.There are videos," Hamilton whispered as he patted Frances’ head in hopes of comforting her, "sorry for yelling.We’re just stressed..."

"Same," Frances huffed as she pushed him away. “Are we gonna be, like, on The Walking Dead?”

"This is not The Walking Dead. We just need to stay calm, okay? We need to collect anything that is vital and pack it up. Only what we can take in the car with us."

"How full was the tank last time you drove it?" Laurens asked.

"Damn, I think it was quarter of a tank. We'll drive my car since it takes less gas and cipher the gas from your car into mine. I think we have a couple of empty tanks in the garage, too."

"Okay.”

"It'll be okay, Franny, I promise," Hamilton reassured as he turned to her, "we just need to be smart. Brains over brawn, right?"

"Brawn!” Frances chanted. Hamilton sighed.

“Your daughter,” he stage-whispered to Laurens. In a normal voice, he went on: “Frances, come help gather canned food. Anything that won’t expire. Don’t know how long we’ll be on the road.”

“Wait, I gotta put my survival clothes on!” she said quickly, twisting away to run to her bedroom. Laurens forced a laugh and helped his husband pack supplies. He held up half a loaf of sandwich bread and some peanut butter.

"What are we putting this stuff in, anyhow?" Hamilton asked, setting it aside on the kitchen island with the other food.  As if Laurens had all the answers...

"Go get our hiking backpacks, those should be substantial enough," Laurens replied, adding a couple of cans of corn and pumpkin to the mix.

Hamilton did what Laurens said. He dug through clothes in the bedroom closet until he finally found the two backpacks.

He and Laurens began loading one of the backpacks with food, the other with smaller things like phone chargers, water bottles, hair ties, brushes, band-aids, and clips.

"What's that for?" Laurens asked, seeing his husband emerge from the basement with zip ties and rope. He added, “Kinky.”

"Shut up,” he said. “You can’t tie me up when the world is ending.”

“The world isn’t ending. You’re melodramatic.”

“Whatever. Never know if you need to make a quick fix... do we have gauze?" Laurens averted his attention from Hamilton as he peered outside.

"Uh, in the first-aid kit, I think," Laurens said, pointing to the small white box that sat on the island. He opened it and listed off the things in the box.

"I hope that lasts us," Hamilton murmurs.

"I hope we don't sustain injuries.”

"Never know."

Laurens sighed and closed the small box once more before fitting it into a backpack. "I'm going to get some blankets and pillows. It's a long drive to Peggy’s.”

"Yeah... I'll feed Frances real quick before loading the car up," Hamilton nervously looked out the window. He saw their neighbors running and many were trying to drive out of the neighborhood. He silently praised himself for the idea to leave tonight instead.

Laurens added the folded blankets to their supply on the table as he watched his husband poured milk in Frances’ cereal for her. He sighed when she still hadn’t made her return from the bedroom.

“Frances!” Hamilton called through the house. There was no response so he added, “I got your cereal!”

“One sec!” Frances called, running out of the room frantically as she tipped her head forward, tying the blond curls on her head into a bun. She presented herself with open arms. “Look! I’m a survivor!”

The two men looked her up and down and Hamilton started sputtering with laughter. Laurens reassured her genuinely, “It’s actually really great, Fran.”

“She is so your daughter,” Hamilton laughed. “And you say I’m melodramatic,”

Frances was wearing skinny cargo pants, black combat boots, and a black tee. She smiled proudly. “I look like a soldier. Like Dad!”

Laurens nodded solemnly and smiled, heart swelling with pride. “Eat your cereal, Fran. High in fiber and iron.”

“Yessir.” She saluted dutifully. Hamilton and Laurens returned to their previous conversation.

"It's almost six o'clock anyway," Hamilton noted, "the sun will set soon."

Laurens watched Frances eat as Hamilton brought bags of stuff into the garage to put in his car.

Mere minutes passed and the tension seemed to grow. Laurens nervously tapped his foot and bit the inside of his cheek, an unhealthy habit he had long ditched in college. As the soft flesh began to tear into shreds he stared as Frances, zoning out in his own thoughts.

“Dad?” Frances looked up, mouth full of cereal.

“Hm?”

“Are we going to die?”

Laurens’ eyes widened. “What the hell, Frances? No! Why would you ask that?”

Frances shrugged and looked back down. “Because when I was gettin’ my survival gear, there were people outside, and they were all running. And we’re just sitting here like it’s normal. Alex said there’s zombies.”

“Alex did not say that,” he argued, “we don’t know that. The government will keep us safe, Fran. We’re fine. We just have to go to aunt Peggy’s, Kay?”

“...Kay.”

Laurens nervously looked out the window.His heart was racing.He took out his dying phone and went to scroll the news.But, all networks were down.Neither his LTE nor his WiFi would work.Frustrated, he shoved it back in his pocket.

He turned to the window again.It was like fucking war out there.

He sucked in a breath.Shit.


	2. Road

Laurens coaxed Frances to the car quickly, his breathing rapid. The night was quiet and still, the silence eery. Hamilton huffed and climbed into the driver's seat, worried for the sake of his family as he turned the ignition.

"I tried calling Peggy, but the signal is still out," Laurens declared quietly as they began driving down the road.

"Shit," Hamilton cursed. Frances sighed from the back seat.

"She won't mind us staying anyhow," Laurens mumbled, looking out the window nervously and continuing the bite the inside of his cheek, which was definitely shredded apart now.

"She owes us for all the times she's crashed at our house when she was still in college," Hamilton responded with a hint of a bitter tone.

"I suppose," he shifted, "but she's family. She'd understand anyway."

"Shit!" Hamilton nearly shouted, causing the nearly sleeping Frances in the back seat to wake up. The car screeched to a halt, but Hamilton couldn't stop the car before it hit a man who was walking slowly across the road.

"Alexander!" Laurens shouted, horrified at the sight of the dark blood splattered across the windshield. “You just hit somebody!”

"I— I couldn't see him there!" he said in defense, breathing heavily as the car stayed still on the abandoned road.

Laurens jumped out of the car and ran to the man who was now lying dead in the road. It was a sickening sight, one that would have made any average person sick to their stomach. But Laurens had an iron stomach (one might say from his experiences in war) and barely flinched at the splattered corpse, though he was of course still fazed by the fact that his husband had just killed a man. He covered his mouth and nose with his arm, feeling sick.

"John." Hamilton jumped out of the car as well, completely forgetting about Frances who was curiously buckled in the back seat. He ran to his husband, who was leaned over the corpse. "What are you doing?"

"You just killed a man. We can't leave him here."

"Yes, we can, the world's gone mad, it's nearly midnight, and we need to get to West Virginia before the roads get crowded," he argued.

"Goddammit, I really did marry a lawyer," Laurens hissed as he still stared at the dead body. He reached forward to evidently check the man's pulse, earning a surprised yelp from Hamilton. “No pulse.”

"You're insane. You really think he could be alive after that blow?"

"Of course not," he said, "I'm looking at his blood. It smells... old."

"For Christ's sake, John!" Hamilton crossed his arms. He heard a soft growling nearby, though he couldn't see into the darkness due to the lack of streetlights and the only light being from the car's headlights. "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Laurens questioned, still focused on the unusual blood.

Another groan was heard, though it was closer this time. "That! Babe, please!" he hissed and grabbed Laurens’ shirt, pleading for him to stand up.

"Wait," Laurens hushed him, noticing the dead man groan and twitch ever since slightly. Hamilton nervously stared, but Laurens looked with curiosity. "I think he's alive."

"Even if he is, you know it's not likely he'll live," Hamilton warned, "his intestines are literally on the hood of my Subaru."

"Tsk."

"We should really go. The news said people were going crazy—"

A third groan, not from the corpse in front of them, sent Laurens straight to his feet, his heart beating as he jumped back into the car. Hamilton got into the driver's seat.

"You're right, we don't have time to waste," Laurens said hastily, wiping the blood onto his jeans. "Just go."

Hamilton backed the car up and swerved around the dead body. Frances had fallen back asleep, Laurens noticed, as he looked out the back window. He could have sworn he saw the dead man beginning to stand up in the middle of the road, though he wasn't sure as it was quite dark.

"Hey," Laurens mumbled, "what kind of crazy were the news anchors reporting, again?"

"Like rabies," Hamilton shook his head. "Dead people walking. They think it was a result of a viral infection that took on the host's brains."

"This is insane," Laurens bit his lip, almost excited, though very anxious.

"I just want to get to Peggy's before we have the chance of getting whatever it is. That corpse you decided to touch could've had it. Don't touch your face, use some hand sanitizer."

Laurens obliged, digging through one of the two bags sitting at his feet. When he eventually found it, he noticed the car beginning to slow down.

"Dad," Frances mumbled, half asleep.

"Shh, just sleep..." Laurens hushed her, leaning his hand into the back seat. Frances nodded tiredly.

"Just sleep tightly, Franny Pack," Hamilton reassured with a sigh. "We'll be there when you wake up."

"'Alex, don’t call me that," she mumbled.

Laurens laughed, facing forward again as Frances fell back asleep.

"Why can't I sleep that easily?" Hamilton questioned with a chuckle.

"I'm really worried," Laurens said suddenly.  "Sorry, I just... you know.  I'm just worried.  They were supposed to have this all sorted out by now."

"It's okay," he gave a reassuring smile and put his hand on Laurens’ knee, rubbing gentle circles on it.

 

"I mean, I'm sure this will all be sorted out soon," Laurens heaved, tilting his head back.

"I hope so, but for now... let's just play it safe."

"Agreed. I don't want to risk Fran getting sick... more than she already is, of course."

"Right."

“Hey, let me drive,” Laurens said suddenly. “You need sleep.”

“I’m fine.”

“You suck at driving, Lex, c’mon,” he said. Hamilton gave him a pouting look but pulled the car to a stop. They quickly got out, switched sides, and settled in. Laurens locked the door and immediately gassed it.

“Shit, John!”

“Buckle up,” he replied lazily.

• • •

"Have you gotten any signal yet?" Hamilton asked with a heavy yawn, trying to stay awake. He had fallen asleep hours before and wasn't surprised that his husband was still awake, driving, after all those hours. The sun was now blazing into the car. The windows were cracked so Laurens didn't waste car battery on the AC.

"No," Laurens mumbled, "not even one bar."

"What time is it?"

"Almost six," Laurens responded, "can't believe Fran is still asleep.”

Hamilton looked out the window at the fields beside the highway. Further away was a city, but for some reason, he thought it to be empty and eery. "Where are we now?"

"Weston," Laurens answered, squinting at the road in front of him. "We're almost to Spencer. Just another hour or so."

"Thank God—" Hamilton cut himself off when he saw a crowd on the road, further in the distance. "What is that?"

"I don't know, an assembly, maybe?" Laurens suggested, slowing the car down but continuing to advance to the hoard of people. There was a loud noise that sounded like a collection of groaning.

"They don't look like they're rallying. They look like—"

Laurens cut off Hamilton’s sentence with a slam on the breaks on the car. Both he and his husband could now see the crowd of people—their skin sagging and their eyes lifeless. Suddenly, a series of screams were let out, sending the mob of monsters away from the car and towards something else.

"What was that?” Laurens nearly whispered.

"There's a person up there!" Hamilton pointed frantically forward, steering Laurens’ eyes to a woman standing on top of a wrecked bus, screaming frantically. "A living person!"

"Alex, no!" Laurens hissed as Hamilton tried to open the car door. He grabbed his arm and tried holding him back.

"We can't leave her, she'll die!"

"We have to. If we go out there, we'll die too."

"John—"

"What about Frances?"

Hamilton watched the woman continue to cry for help. She hadn't seen their car until one of the monsters got ahold of her leg. He winced, closing his eyes tightly and recoiling as the woman was screaming and being dragged to her death.

He kept his eyes open with fear, frozen and unable to move as he watched the woman be torn apart. He had never seen anything like this.

“Alex,” Frances whimpered from the backseat. "Dad, what's happening?" Laurens turned around and clasped a hand over her eyes, keeping still.

“Hey, shh, it’s okay. It’s okay.”

As they ripped into her, the woman pleaded sickeningly and loudly. A few of the monsters strayed away from the crowd— making their way to the car.

Laurens just backed the car up and gassed it, steering off of the highway and into the field. He drove it as fast as he could, going around the mob and back onto the highway.

He panted and drove steadily, his hands shaking. He hadn't even paid attention to his husband, who was coiled up in the passenger seat while he cried. Laurens decidedly pulled the car over once he noticed they were far enough away from the mob.

"Alex?" he asked quietly as Hamilton trembled, hiding his face. "Lex, c’mon. We’re okay."

Laurens pried one of his hands away from his body. Hamilton squeezed onto his hand as if it was his last link to sanity.

"We killed her," Hamilton whispered, voice cracking, "we killed her, John, we killed her."

"Hey." Laurens was unsure what to do. He hadn't seen Hamilton having a breakdown like this in years. "Take deep breaths. It's okay, deep breaths."

"W-we let her die," Hamilton shook his head, staring at his hand that was intertwined with Laurens’. The grip was desperate and he was tense as he trembled. “We should have gone and helped her, tried to do something, anything! You shouldn’t have stopped me, you— we could have—”

"There's nothing we could have done."

Realizing he was at short of breath and his head was light, Hamilton leaned back in the seat. He closed his eyes as the hot tears continued to fall.

Laurens continued to whisper and reassure Hamilton, knowing there was nothing more he could do than tell him to breathe and hold his hand. Hamilton eventually caught his breath. He didn’t feel better but the panic was over.

"It's all okay," Laurens mumbled, rubbing his husband's knee, "we'll get to Peggy's soon. Just—"

Hamilton wiped his face and pretended it was all going to be fine, moving to console Frances (whose eyes were luckily covered during the murder).


	3. Peggy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Peggy's at last!  
> Angry but not?  
> Some sexy time.

At last, the family of three had reached Peggy's small home in Spencer, West Virginia. Unfortunately, Spencer didn't look any better than their own city. They had seen the monsters limping from place to place, picking at dead animals and even people.

Both Hamilton and Laurens were thinking the same two things. First, no child should ever have to witness what was going on. Second, whatever was going on was bad and it didn't look fixable or changeable.

"Where's Peggy?" Frances asked, looking out the window sadly. Hamilton didn't have an answer, so he just shook his head and bit his lip. He watched Laurens carefully as he knocked on the door, holding two kitchen knives they had swiped from their kitchen before leaving.

Laurens knocked on the door several times before it burst open, Peggy's mouth open wide and tears in her eyes.

Hamilton quickly jumped out of the car, coaxing Frances to do the same.

"Peggy!" Frances smiled happily. Peggy picked up her niece and spun her around before bopping her nose and letting her stand. Frances ran into the house as Hamilton and Laurens began grabbing their bags from the car.

"Peggy," Hamilton breathed and hugged her tightly.

"Are you guys all right?" she asked.

"Yes, what's going on?” he answered as Frances pulled at his jacket sleeve. "Fran, not now."

"But—" Frances began but he cut her off.

"Go find something to do, Frances."

She rolled her eyes and went to snoop through Peggy’s belongings.

"There's an outbreak," Peggy nervously tapped the surface of the kitchen table, biting her lip. "I'm sure you've seen them."

"The people, but they're..." Hamilton shook his head and regathered himself, "but they're dead."

"Except they're not," Peggy corrected.  "See the news?"

"Yeah," Hamilton said.  He mumbled curses and buried his face in Laurens' chest. Laurens protectively held onto his waist and brushed his short curls.

"I can't believe this," Laurens said, Hamilton on the verge of more tears as he hugged him, "we saw them... eating people... like a fucking movie or some shit."

"That's the worst of it," Peggy hissed, "my neighbor— she turned. She was at my door last night while I was watching the news and she was bleeding. So I let her inside and she tried to attack me. I had no choice."

"We understand," Laurens nervously eyeballed the rags in the kitchen sink. There were faint traces of blood, but it looked as if Peggy had done her best to clean it.

"What about stores?" Hamilton pulled his head up from Laurens’ body, whose arm stayed at his waist.

"I'm sure people have raided them already."

"Frances needs her meds. She could die without them."

Peggy's face went pale as she realized what was at stake. "I'll go."

"I'm coming," Hamilton declared, making Laurens tug at his sleeve.

"You can't," Laurens said, "I’m going."

"John, no, you need to watch Frances. What if something were to happen to you?"

"What if something were to happen to _you_?" he countered.

"We can't all go. Please, I beg you, stay with Frances. Here. Safely."

"I'm not helpless," Laurens growled, “Which one of us actually has military experience, huh?”

"That's why you need to be here for your daughter."

“You’re so stubborn!” he said angrily, “I could go by myself and be fine! _I’m_ going.”

“J, please,” Hamilton pleaded, reaching up to run his fingers through his hair, “please, don’t. Peggy and I are a good team.”

"Don't worry, Alex and I will be back before you know it. I promise. But we shouldn't go just yet. You two need some sleep. I'll watch Frances, you can sleep in my room."

“Fuck both of you,” Laurens growled. He stormed off to the bedroom, Hamilton following.

"Just get some rest," Hamilton pleaded. Laurens kicked his shoes off and jumped onto the bed. Hamilton sat on the end.

“I’m not resting when you’d rather risk your life than just listen to me!”

“Calm down, John! Goddamn. We’re fine. I am a grown man and I can handle myself. Stop emasculating me and treating me like a helpless woman!”

Laurens growled, “This again? Seriously?”

“Here we go,” he rolled his eyes.

“We’ve been together for eleven years and you’re still so Goddamn worried that your fragile masculinity is being touched!”

“Oh, as if you don’t ever feel that way.”

“No, it’s the same fucking argument over and over and over again!” He threw his hand down onto the bed, grasping at the sheets. He then turned to Hamilton and continued, “I’m sick of it! We’re in an apocalypse and you’re worried about your masculinity! Grow a pair and stop being so touchy. Seriously.”

“I’m being touchy,” he scoffed. “Sure.”

“You are. Why don’t you let the _actual_  fucking _soldier_ handle it, huh?”

“Why, so you can have a panic attack the second you get your hands on a gun?”

Laurens fumed. “Fuck you. Fuck you for using that against me when you fucking know—”

“Whatever. I’m going tomorrow and you can’t stop me. If you want to try bringing your twelve year old along, be my fucking guest! Or you could stay here and defend the house so our supplies don’t get ransacked!” Hamilton stood, throwing his arms up.

“That’s not fair and you know it!”

“I’m going to bed, John. Sleep off that anger, will ya?” he huffed, tearing off his shirt and tossing it aside before laying down. Laurens turned over and grabbed his arm.

“No. We’re not going to bed angry like this.”

“I’m not angry.”

“Well I am,” Laurens argued, “and you’re being an insensitive dick.”

“Why the hell can’t we ever just talk about things?” Hamilton groaned as he rolled his eyes. Laurens laid down and held onto the pillow. “Eleven years and we can’t just talk. Why is that so hard for us? Talking?”

“Because we’re both easily angry.”

“We just saw a live woman get ripped to shreds today and—” Hamilton swallowed, looking away. He turned to his pillow and bit his lip.

“You don’t even know what it’s like. That was fucking Child's play.  Watching people just— be gone, die, it’s...” he trailed off.

“I’m sorry. About the panic attack thing, I’m an asshole. I didn’t really mean— but y’know, I’m just... scared that something will happen and I won’t be there. What if you died? You’re the most _able_ one here and so you should be staying with Frances. So if something happens to me...”

“No. Shut up,” Laurens ordered, taking his hands, “Nothing is happening to you. Zombies, no zombies, it won’t happen. Don’t say that.”

“...Okay,” he mumbled. “Just let me go tomorrow.”

Laurens sighed.  “Whatever.”

Timidly, Hamilton mumbled, “I’ll get the light.”

“Hey, uh— and the lock?” Laurens whispered.

Hamilton smiled and rolled his eyes, going to lock the door as well. The moment he was back to the bed, he was pinned down.  He smiled—really, truly smiled—and sadly looked up at Laurens.  He reached up to scrape his nails over Laurens' back.  "I'm sorry for making you mad."

"Not mad anymore," Laurens said decidedly.

"Really?"

"...No.  I'm a bit mad," he explained, "but you know, neither of us should go to bed mad at each other, so..." he leaned down and kissed Hamilton on the cheek.  After a moment of the tender kissing, he moved his hands down Hamilton's body to grab his hips.  He nuzzled his stomach.  "I won't be mad after this."

"Perfect," Hamilton whispered.  He reached out to touch Laurens' hair.  He petted his head.  "Do you think Peggy has a condom somewhere here?"

"It's  _Peggy,"_ he said, exasperated.  "Like, no offense."

"Yeah, yeah.  I'll look."  He rolled out from under Laurens' body and off the bed.  Luckily, there were lubed condoms right in the bedside drawer.  He chuckled and held it up to Laurens.  Laurens shook his head and sat up on his knees.

Hamilton cocked his head.  "What?  You want me to strip for you, Dear?"

Laurens stood up off the bed as well and took Hamilton by the wrist.  He coaxed him to the edge of the bed.

"We can do this fast," he breathed in Hamilton's ear, "but you have to be quiet."

Hamilton grinned.  "Where you want to do this?"

"Bend over the bed," Laurens commanded.  Hamilton turned around and did that.  Next thing he knew, he was being pushed up onto the bed on his knees, and his legs were spread as he was forced into a sort of weird variation of a downward dog yoga pose—just much, much more comfortable.  He felt Laurens' presence behind him, then pressing against him, then forcing his pants down.  Hamilton lifted a bit and kicked his pants aside.

"No foreplay?" Hamilton questioned teasingly.

"Didn't think we needed it, you're already hard," Laurens murmured, leaning over him.  He wrapped his arms around Hamilton's middle.

"You're—right," he stammered a bit and laughed.  "Just... get on with it, J."

"Hm... I don't know.  I'm still mad."

"I don't fucking  _care._ Come on already.  It's fine; be angry, I just—"

"Hey.  You gotta keep quiet, remember?  You really want Peggy to know we fucked in her bed?"

"Tech—nically, we're not, we're doing it bent over a small portion of her bed, and you're standing, and you—mm.  K-keep doing that."

Laurens smiled, pleased with himself.  "Too bad we gotta keep it clean.  I would love to just fucking... feel you," he murmured.  "Without a condom."

"Kinky... you'd think that, ah, after being married and shit, we—mm..."

"We, what?"

"Never mind... I'll never get sick of fucking you, J.  Being fucked by you," he corrected and hummed again.  "I love you, just—fuck, just fuck me already.  Please..."

Laurens nuzzled his back.  "Love you more."  He pulled away to pull down his own pants.

 


	4. Pharmacy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bad decisions have consequences; Hamilton has feelings? Woah!

Hamilton and Peggy got dressed early the next morning. They wore the clothes that were the comfiest and easiest to move in but had the least amount of fabric to grab or tear.

Peggy had slept on the pull-out couch with Frances, leaving Hamilton and Laurens in her bedroom. Hamilton slept like a rock, (after, of course, his little bit of intimacy with his husband last night) and fell asleep with Laurens’ arms around him. That morning, Laurens woke up at a much-too-early hour and was sure to get Hamilton up as well so they both could dress. He left the bedroom and found an apple on Peggy’s counter, swiping it quickly and not bothering to ask. 

Later, everybody was awake and it was almost seven AM. Peggy and Hamilton got dressed and ready.

"Please be careful," Laurens mumbled.

"Where's Pa and Auntie going?" Frances asked with concern, being half-asleep and somewhat forgetting the arguing of her parents last night.

"We're just running to the store, we'll be right back," Peggy ruffled up Frances' curls and sighed. Frances defensively pushed her hand away, pouting.

"I love you," Hamilton kissed Laurens.

"Don't say that. It makes it sounds like you're leaving for good," Laurens mumbled.

"Not for good. I love you but we’ll be back.”

"I love you too."

Hamilton knelt down and hugged Frances. She was a bit confused but hugged him back. “Love you. Don’t get turned into a walker.”

“We’re not calling them walkers,” Laurens grunted. Hamilton stood and gave Laurens one last quick squeeze before leaving.

Hamilton got into the passenger seat of Peggy's car, the birds twittering as the sun shone on the hood of her car. It was surprisingly warm for the early spring morning, though not warm enough to not wear pants.

"We'll have a stroke in your car," he huffed, “it’s twenty degrees warmer in here than outside.”

"Oh, boo-fucking-hoo," Peggy rolled her eyes, turning the ignition. She pulled something out of her satchel and Hamilton’s lips parted with a gasp at the small handgun now in his possession.

"Where the fuck did you get something like this?" he questioned, examining the handgun.

"Careful with that thing, idiot. Do you think I just sat in my house all morning yesterday before you came?"

"Where did you get it, then?"

"Remember my neighbor who I ended up murdering?" Peggy chuckled humorlessly with glassy eyes as she gripped the steering wheel more tightly and stared at the road ahead. "Well, I pulled her body back to her house. I laid her down on her bed and the handgun was on her bedside table."

"Why would you bring her back to her house?"

"She deserved better than being tossed in a ditch in my backyard!" she protested. "She was a nice woman."

"Was she?"

"We hung out once. Drank wine and watched Friends after her boyfriend cheated on her. I heard the screaming next door so after he left I checked to see if she was okay. I-I know it wasn't my place, I just... yeah."

"Why are you such a big-hearted, loving badass?" Hamilton sighed and smiled.

"Because I have an asshole for a best friend," Peggy joked. "No, but really, I was worried. She invited me in and we drank all the wine she was saving for her two-year anniversary that weekend."

"What a dick," Hamilton hissed, "I can't imagine ever cheating on John. And I don't think he'd do it to me."

"If this wasn't an apocalypse I'd call Angelica and complain about how annoyingly matched the two of you are."

"Dammit, I almost forgot that the world was ending," Hamilton laughed with a hint of distaste as he glared out the window. It was still quiet, as Spencer was a quiet town overall, not to mention the lack of living people. There were plenty of those monsters roaming slowly on the streets though, many of which were very interested in Peggy's Jeep.

"What was it like?" Hamilton mumbled.

"What was what like?"

"K-Killing a person."

"Alex," Peggy huffed, "she wasn't as much of a person as she was a monster."

"But still...?"

"I wouldn't have done it if I had a choice," she clenched her teeth, "but she was a person once. When I killed her— it— it was just a thing that was going to kill me first."

“John’s killed people before,” Hamilton whispered distantly. Peggy listened carefully as he continued, “I told him he doesn’t have to think about it. And that I don’t love him any less because it was his job, y’know, it’s just... sometimes when I think about him, I just... it makes me sad. You know, that he has to live with that. It’s weird to think about; that the man I love has killed people.”

“It’s a difficult concept to grasp. And it’s always different. Some people don’t feel badly because the person they killed had it coming but even then... I couldn’t imagine taking the life of a living person. Even if they deserve it.”

Hamilton sighed deeply, “I hit somebody with my car on the way here.” Since Peggy didn’t respond he just went on, “I don’t know if they were dead already or not, but hearing the thump of the body and seeing the blood on the road, on the wheels, I thought... I thought I wouldn’t be able to hold it in. It smelled so badly.”

“The stench of death is... horrible.”

“I watched a woman die,” he admitted, feeling his chest tighten. He laughed bitterly, “I don’t normally cry but shit... it was her or my family and we had to leave her. I wanted to help her but John told me not to. And we watched her. Screaming, begging for mercy, being torn apart... and I cried, I cried, God I cried,” Hamilton hiccuped and wiped his face. “It was my fault.”

“You didn’t kill her,” Peggy reassured weakly, trying to focus on the road.

“But I’m the reason she’s dead. I don’t— I don’t think I could stomach watching that happen to you or to John or to Frances or anybody. It’s selfish but... I’d rather die first so I don’t have to watch.”

“Alex,” she said firmly, offering her hand. He took it and stifled a sob, calming down. “It’s completely understandable. I’m... I’m sorry you had to watch that happen. Just know that I’m doing that, you saved your family and yourself. And if you’re ever faced with that sort of choice again, remember that those you love come first.”

“Thanks, Peggy...”

Hamilton decided to drop the subject and he looked out the window, his stomach filling with dread when he saw a man limping quickly, drawing obviously unwanted attention to himself. The man spotted the Jeep and screamed for help, waving at Alex and Peggy.

"You know we can't help him," Peggy mumbled.

"I know," Hamilton replied as Peggy sped the car up a bit. He watched carefully as the monsters tore into the man, making him wince uneasily. "I don't feel so great," he put a hand to his forehead, "how far is the pharmacy?"

"Just around the corner."

"Then let's get this over with."

"Are you really ready, Alex?" Peggy slows the car and shuts off the ignition.

"It's for my family," he reassured himself and Peggy uneasily nodded.

"You know how to use a gun?"

"Of course."

"Good," Peggy reached into her bag and pulled out a couple of cases of ammo, handing it to Hamilton before pulling out two knives.

"Actually—?" Hamilton cut her off, "Can you use the gun?"

"I don't know how to fire a gun!" She hissed. "Don't be a pussy. It’s for your family,"

"Fuck off," he muttered and loaded his weapon, examining it carefully with a sigh. He watched as Peggy pulled on a leather jacket and readjusted her black hair, tucking it into a bun. "What're you doing?"

"Putting my hair up, obviously," she rolled her eyes.

"Apocalypse or not, you're still the same bitch,"

"Apocalypse or not, you're still the same prick," Peggy shot back. "Ready?"

"No,"

"Okay, let's go," she smirked but then her face turned serious. "Hey, Alex... be careful. I love you."

"Love you too," Hamilton didn't shed a tear, though he wanted to, as he hugged his best friend.

"Let's go in, find what we need, and leave before we cause any commotion."

"For John and Frances," Hamilton mumbled.

"For John and Frances," she repeated in an almost mocking tone as she unlocked the car door.

Where they were downtown, there weren't many of the monsters. As Hamilton and Peggy crept quietly to the door of the pharmacy, they spotted a monster around the corner and down an alley, but it was focused on something else.

"Locked," Peggy hissed, pulling at the door. She waved her hand to Hamilton, prompting him to hand her the gun. He did so and watched carefully as Peggy backed up, shooting the lock three times, making him jump. It easily broke and Peggy chuckled, surprised at the lack of effort it took.

She motioned for Hamilton to follow her inside the store. It was abandoned and eerie in every way— lights off, fully stocked shelves, and not a peep from a human, alive or undead.

Hamilton made sure to close the convenience store door behind them, not wanting any attention to them. He pulled the empty backpack off his shoulders and opened it, beginning to fill it with stuff like pain-killers and regular things that you didn't need to buy over the counter.

"Look at this jackpot," Peggy said quietly, her voice echoing through the store. Hamilton stopped what he was doing to walk to her.

"What is it?"

"Look," she just pointed over the counter to a room with a glass window on the heavy steel door and chuckled. From where they were standing, they could see the shelves of medications in the locked room.

"It's locked," he pointed out and Peggy rolled her eyes.

"Of course it is, it's drugs," she says, backing up for Hamilton as he shot the lock.

First shot, missed.

Second, hit, but the lock didn't break.

He missed the third shot and hit it again the fourth and fifth, but to no avail.

"It's not opening," he muttered and Peggy rolled her eyes once more.

"Waste of ammunition. There has to be a key around here somewhere,"

"Somewhere," Hamilton repeated, hoisting himself over the counter to look behind the register for a key.

"Anything?" Peggy asked as she loaded her backpack with chocolate, five-hour-energy, canned foods, and energy bars.

"Nada,"

"Dammit,"

"What?" He shot up from the floor and looked over at where Peggy's eyes were fixated. At the door were three or four undead, decaying and trying to break it.

"They must've heard the gunshots!"

"Merde!"

"Stop swearing in French and get your ass over here to help me," Peggy shouted, dropping her loaded backpack and pushing herself against the door to stop the intruders.

Hamilton quickly ran to her aid, launching himself over the counter. They both were stronger than the monsters, but they knew there was no point in barricading if they were just going to be trapped with no way to get home.

Peggy pushed herself off the door quickly, looking around for something useful.

"I'll hold the door," Peggy heaved, dragging an empty metal rack to the door. Hamilton nodded, helping Peggy with the rack.

They managed to block the door off with the insecurity of how long it could hold.


	5. A Lovely Visitor

Laurens sighed and glanced over at Frances, who sat next to him on the couch.

"I spy with my little eye something blue," he muttered.

"Dad, we've been playing I-Spy for so long," she complained.

"If you find paper and something to write with, we can play tic-tac-toe," he suggested.  Frances nodded and jumped off of the couch, going to infiltrate Aunt Peggy's office.  Laurens sighed and stood, going to look out the window.  Eventually Frances trotted back to the living room with a thin stack of printer paper and some colored pens.

"I got you a blue pen and me a red one 'cause you like blue," Frances offered, flopping down on the couch and swiping a book from the coffee table to use as a clip-board.  Laurens sat back down next to her as she made the small tic-tac-toe board.  

Laurens lost on purpose the first round, and then the second.  Frances caught on and glared.

"Don't go easy.  I wanna beat you honestly,"

Laurens chuckled a little.  He won the third, fourth, and fifth round.  A bit upset at the loss, Frances complained:

"I could beat Pa at this,"

"Could you, now?"  Laurens asked curiously, marking an 'O' in the top left square.

"Yeah.  He thinks too much about it," she stated curtly.  She made a red 'X' in the middle.  Laurens made an 'O' in the square above that.  Frances continued, "Hey, why’d Pa and Peggy go to the store but you didn't?  S'it 'cause Pa is stronger?"

"What?"  Laurens turned red, watching his daughter mark up the top right square.  "No.  I'm stronger than Pa," he said defensively as he put an 'O' in the middle left square.

"Then how come Pa is fighting zombies and you aren't?"  she asked.  

"He's just at the store, Fran."

"With zombies."

"Well, I used to be a soldier, so I'm stronger," he said pointedly.  "And since I'm strong I have to protect the house.  And you.  I was in the army," he repeated.  Frances just nodded.

"So... is Pa smarter?"

"No.  Maybe.  You can be both smart and strong.  We're both strong, I'm just stronger.  I'm smart but Pa might be smarter.  He went to college."

"And you didn’t go to college?"  she asked.

"For a little while.  Then I had to go be in the army," he shrugged.  "Take your turn, child."

Frances laughed and made a big, red 'X' in the bottom left corner.  It gave her a win diagonally.  She giggled happily and marked the win, writing in big letters, "FRANCES WINS!!!!" at the top of the page.  Laurens laughed and shook his head.

"Okay, okay, you beat me, you beat me," he confessed.

"Rule number one:  distract the enemy," she giggled.  Laurens' eyebrows raised.

"You are so my daughter."

• • •

"Dad, can you read this to me?"  Frances asked, handing him a book she found in Peggy's room.  Laurens' eyes widened and he snatched the book quickly.

"No.  Not kid-appropriate," he insisted, looking on at the cover that read "Fifty Shades of Grey".  He sighed, "Go find an appropriate book, Fran."

"Okay," she nodded, taking back to book to put it away.  She returned with a different book.  

"What is this?"  Laurens muttered.  He shook his head.  "I am not reading you, 'Lord of the Flies'.  It's really violent and scary."

"Please, Dad," she begged.  "I'm almost thirteen!"

"You just turned twelve in January,"

"But everything is violent outside," 

Laurens sighed, closing his eyes.  "Pa taught you well.  Right, okay.  Fine.  But I'm putting it away if it gets to be too much. I think there’s cannibalism or something."

"Bet. There’s cannibalism in The Walking Dead and you let me watch that.” “Um, okay, but that’s not the same. That’s monsters eating people, not people eating people.” “But they used to be people. They’re not making the conscious choice to eat people.” “Fran...” “I'm not little.  I can read it," she insisted.  “And if you won’t read it to me then I’ll read it myself. I just like hearing it out loud.”

Laurens nodded, opening it and skimming to the first chapter.  Frances sat happily next to her father, leaning on his shoulder to see the page.  She liked to read along.

"'The boy with the fair hair lowered himself down the last few feet of rock and began to pick his way toward the lagoon,'" Laurens began with a sigh.

• • •

About two chapters later— (Frances was very into the book already and wouldn't allow him to stop reading) Frances fell asleep and Laurens was left with her limp body on his arm.  He eventually slid his daughter off of him and laid her down on the seat of the couch next to him. He pulled a throw over her small, frail body and slowly smiled.  

He sulked to the kitchen, looking around for food. He hadn't eaten since the apple this morning. He was sure Peggy fed Frances dinner while he and Hamilton caught some 'sleep', as she hadn't been complaining.

At last, after mindless searching, Laurens found a can of sliced peaches. They were perfect, loaded with sugar and carbs.

He begrudgingly found a can-opener and sliced the can, careful not to cut his hand on the ragged tin (for he had done that just the other day, opening a can of creamed corn for Shepard's pie).

As he ate the sliced peaches, which were slimy and seemingly artificial, Laurens watched Frances sleep contently. It was only around eleven in the morning and the two other adults had left hours ago.

"Pa and Peggy should be back soon," Laurens mumbled more to himself than his sleeping daughter. "I promise."

Of course, Frances was napping so she didn't hear her father talking to her.

He didn't have the appetite to finish the whole can of calorie-ridden fruit but did so anyway. Laurens remembered that Hamilton would lecture him for not eating.  He was throwing the empty can away when a loud thump on the door made him yelp and jump back.

There, pounding on the locked front door, was a monster. It was ferocious as it spotted Laurens, trying to get into the house.

Laurens cursed repeatedly under his breath and backed up against the counter to pick out a kitchen knife from the wood block.

Carefully and slowly he crept towards the door, almost under what to do, but opening the door anyway. The chain lock was still latched on the door, giving the monster just four inches or so for him to stick his arm in and grope the air for him.

Adrenaline coursed through Laurens' veins. He knew he had to protect his daughter and eventually Peggy and Hamilton would be back. He didn't want them to have to deal with the creature.

Laurens' hands trembled as he raised the knife up and plunged it into the monster's head, causing him to pant on the impact as blood just barely seeped out.  He lifted it once more, slamming it down in the same spot. He did this three more times until the monster gave up, falling limp on the porch.

Nervously, he closed the door and unlocked the chain, opening it back up so that he could drag the body inside.

Frances had woken up to hear her father's struggle, so she nervously crept off the couch to see the commotion. She stared with wide eyes, seeing him pulling the dead body into the home.

"Dad!" She whispered, "What're you doing?!"

"Fran!" John's face went red and he went to comfort the child, but she moved away uneasily. Laurens looked down at his hands which were soaked in a red so dark it was nearly purple.  He quickly went to the sink to wash his hands but realized the city water was shut off. He grabbed a hand towel instead.

"Fran, honey," John whispered, blinking back tears. The weight of what he had done hadn't yet dawned on him, but it certainly had on Frances. He knelt down next to her as she whimpered.

"W-why?" Frances mumbled, pointing to the corpse.

Suddenly, it hit him. "I did what I had to do," he said, "Frances, it's a monster.  Remember?  Zombie."

Frances had calmed down, but Laurens was only beginning his new state of panic. Though he kept it in as best he could, it was obvious to most any observant person.

"Go into Peggy's room and don't come out," he said.  

"No, I— I want to see," she insisted.  Laurens' eyebrows furrowed.

"Frances, it's dead.  Why do you want to see that?"

"I just do.  Don't make me stay in the room," she whispered, "I don't want to be alone.  I want to know how to kill them,"

"Shit," he muttered.  "Fine.  Don't touch it and keep your hands away from your face,"

Now, all he had to do was lug the fermenting corpse somewhere that it couldn't be easily seen.  He couldn't dump it outside— what if another one came to attack while he was doing that?

Laurens dragged the body to the basement and wiped his hands on his jeans as he looked around the dim area. The only light was from the basement windows, which wasn't much.  As if on impulse, he knelt down beside the body. He shook his head and looked at the corpse as it lie on its stomach. His hand was shaking as he stretched it out to move the hair out of the way so he could see the large tumor that was built on the back of its neck.  The stench of death...

A wave of shivers was sent through his body and he jumped up from the floor to search the shelves of his sister-in-law's basement. After a while he found some plastic bags. 

"This'll have to do," he mumbled under his breath. He pulled the zip-lock to the corners of his wrists and picked the knife back up. Before doing anything else, though, John pulled a bandana over his mouth. He was smart enough to take precautions.  Frances stood back, arms crossed as she eyed the body nervously.

The body only twitched every now and then as Laurens examined the tumor. With a shaky sigh and pressed the dull kitchen knife to the tumor and sliced into it roughly. It was no scalpel, of course, so the incision was anything but clean.

A lump built in his throat as the tumor split open as if it wasn't really a tumor. Laurens but his lip and considered this. It didn't look like a normal tumor, but was definitely not some normal skin thing. It was dark, almost black, and stretched all the way from the neck to the head and back, stretching down the spine. Laurens felt himself tremble with nostalgia as he examined the dried, caked on black substance inside the lumps.

"Definitely not just a fucking tumor," he spoke to himself quietly.  Frances' eyes widened and she looked down.

"It smells bad," she mumbled through her arm, which had been covering her nose.

"Yeah... it does,"

"I'm gonna go upstairs," she whispered.  

"There's apples on the counter," he smiled weakly.  She nodded, running up the stairs.


	6. Out of the Pharmacy

"Find a key quickly," Peggy hissed, shoving supplies from shelves into her bag, "because we need to go."

"Where? Where do we go? The door is blocked off!" Hamilton responded frantically as he looked through drawers and cupboards under the counter behind the register.

"I see that! Just find a way to get to the drugs, asshole!"

"This is not a time for name calling! Help me find the key!"

"I'm looking!" She hissed.

Hamilton had by now opened every cabinet and crevice with no success in finding the key.

"The register," Peggy shouts.

"What good will money do?!"

"It won't!"

"Then how—"

"The key could be in the register," She says, picking up the register and putting it on the other end of the counter. She picked up the pistol that was sitting on the counter next to Alex. "Cover your ears, just in case,"

"But I didn't co—"

"Cover them!"

Hamilton complied with his vicious comrade, covering his ears. She shot the register twice and it popped open. Much to their dismay, there was no key to be found.

"Anticlimactic," he huffed.

Hamilton promptly picked up the second register, placing it on the far of the counter next to the other busted cash register.  Peggy shot that one open as well, the banging on the doors behind her making her jump, while Hamilton looked around the pharmacy more.  When she found that there was no key in this register either, Peggy groaned and turned her attention to the undead at the door.

Alex had peeked inside the restroom. It was dark and empty and he could not see much other than a toilet, of course, a sink, and a large trash bag flopped in the corner next to the toilet.

He ignored it and decided to check the next door, which read, "employees only". It was an office of some sort but it was dark.

"Peggy," he pointed to the door. She turned her attention from the banging outside to where Hamilton pried at the locked door.  She waved him aside and aimed the gun at the lock carefully. By the third shot, the door handle popped off.

Immediately, the door burst open, a skinny man with thinning hair and a missing arm came out. He toppled Peggy over, sending her into frightening screams as the gun slid across the floor by Hamilton's feet. Hamilton, however, was too surprised to move a muscle.

Peggy wrestled with the living corpse, pushing on its shoulders to keep its mouth away from her. The monster scratched her as it growled ferociously, though he didn't break her skin.

"Alex!" She finally screamed desperately. The low gurgling noises that came from the monster was suffocating to Hamilton, who still was trying to comprehend exactly what was happening.  When it hit him at last, he blinked and hastily picked up the gun by his feet. He was aiming for the monster but was too afraid that he was going to hit Peggy.

"Just shoot!" She shouted, kicking against the rotting monstrosity.

On Peggy's words, he fired the weapon. The bullet missed both his sister and the undead. Then he fired again— the weapon only made an empty cocking noise.

"Shit!" He hissed, "Shit, shit, shit!"

He was torn between prying the monster off of Peggy or taking the time to grab her backpack and get the ammo to reload the weapon.

"Knife!" She called to him. That one word set him off.

As fast as he could he tripped over his feet to get to the counter. Hamilton grabbed the two kitchen knives that Peggy had brought along.

In one motion he launched forward to plant the knife in the undead creature's head.

The seemly unfazed monster then reverted his attention to Alex who trembled uncertainly. He had no second thought before kicking the monster, who had slipped off Peggy.  Peggy scurried to her feet and took the knives out of Hamilton's hands. She quickly lifted them, launching them down into the monster's head.

"Goddamn," she huffed angrily, resting her hands on her knees as the man lay dead. "You fucking idiot."

"W-what?"

"What were you doing?!" She asked in an exasperated manner, "I would have been dead if you waited for a second longer!"

"I'm sorry!" He burst out in fear and sorrow. In fact, Hamilton pitied himself. He was supposed to be the strong one. Protect his husband and his daughter, protect his best friend.

Peggy just sighed, wiping the blood from the knives off on her jeans. Her curly hair bounced in the bun on her head as she kicked the dead body, making sure it was truly dead.

"Check his body and see if he has a key," Peggy huffed and turned on her heel, but not before handing Hamilton one of the knives. "Just in case they get in."

"In case they get in...?"

"Yes! Now search him and I'll check this back room!"

Hamilton squeezed his fists and let out a heavy breath as he knelt down to the corpse. With a disgusted huff, he rolled it over onto its back so he could check his shirt and front pant pockets.

He was wearing a cheap red polo and jeans. His name tag read 'Ben' and he looked very skinny and young, though it may have been from a possible lack of fat on his body due to whatever the virus was doing to these people.

He felt around hesitantly, on the verge of puking. The smell was sour and rancid, almost like expired milk but a million times worse. Part of him wondered why the savage person didn't bleed initially when both his back and skull were punctured. He also noticed that the man's head was very soft and doughy, though Hamilton wasn't quite sure if it was because Peggy had stabbed him or something to do with the bone marrow and the virus.

In the man's back-pocket he found a wallet. Hamilton didn't suspect the key to be in there, he was just curious.

The first thing he noticed was a driver's license. He was born in 1991, making him twenty-five years old. Male, 6'2, organ donor and the license was issued on the sixteenth of May in 2013. He studied the man's picture. He was a scholarly-looking guy, nice smile, neatly combed hair, and was wearing a nice white shirt for his photo.

His license also said he had blue eyes, though that savage person that Peggy had just killed had sunken-in, nearly white eyes. Like an animal that's gone blind.

Hamilton tucked the wallet away in his pocket. He wasn't sure why but it just made him feel better. And after searching all the pockets to no avail, he was beginning to lose hope.

Then it dawned on him.

Hamilton picked up the dead man's right arm carefully, pulling his sleeve to reveal a small key-chain with a silver key attached. He smiled for the first time in a while and pulled the bracelet off the man's wrist.

"Found it!" Hamilton shouted to Peggy in excitement. He stood up and jumped slightly, remembering the sounds of the pounding on the door outside. He quickly showed the key to Peggy who was in the back room, reading something carefully.

"Check this out," she mumbled and handed him a piece of paper. On one side was an employee's inventory sheet, on the other was scribbled and messy writing.

"What is this?" Hamilton marveled, trying to read in the dim light.

"Some sort of suicide note... not sure..."

"'I heard it on the news. The zombie apocalypse has dawned on this pitiful race,'" Hamilton read aloud, his voice wavering slightly, "'but it is not a normal zombie apocalypse. No Michael Jackson, no arcade games, no cheaply-made movies. This is worse.'"

"I can't believe we didn't think of that," Peggy mumbled.

"What? Zombies?"

"Yeah, zombies. I mean, they're obviously zombies, and we called them that it just... felt unreal.  It just seemed like folklore nonsense. Cheap Hollywood propaganda. But this... this is way worse. These people are changing... it's not like some fucking green monsters like those dumb video games or books. They're legitimately terrifying,"

Hamilton sighed and continued reading, "'I first heard the news from Dr. Hosack. It was break-room discussion and we laughed about it just a few days ago. But now, as I wallow in the corner of this damned office and try to figure out what in God's name is going on, I can only regret not looking into it when I had the chance. The people who are infected'..."

"What more does it say?" Peggy asked carefully.

"Nothing," Hamilton shook his head. "He stopped writing after that unfinished sentence."

"Goddammit!" Peggy yelped and shook her head, "We need to get out of here. You have the key?"

"Yeah,"

"Then let's test it out,"

They made their way uneasily over the dead body on the floor and behind the counter to the locked pharmacy door. Luck had their side apparently (though it rarely showed it before) and the door opened with ease with the key.

"Fucking perfect," Peggy clapped her hands together, "let's load our bags with this shit,"

"Wait, Peggy," Hamilton said, "let's only take what we need. What if there are other people out there who need prescriptions like these?"

"This is a zombie apocalypse and you are asking me to be considerate?"

Hamilton just shrugged, which was enough to make Peggy give up her idea.

"Fine," she huffed, "but I'm taking lots and lots of Midol for my period cramps."

"Nice, really need to hear that," Hamilton groaned and they searched the shelves as the zombies continued to growl outside the store.

"Stop being a stereotypical man.  Embrace the blood,"

Hamilton had, at last, found the pills that had been prescribed to his daughter and he put three bottles of it in his bag. In his head, this would all be sorted out before it spread too widely.

Peggy, however, saw it only as common sense to take an extra bottle, just in case. She didn't tell Hamilton or he'd make her put it back so she just added it to her backpack with her pain-killers and fever reducers.  Most of which wasn't over the counter— it was with he fever reducers, Rolaid, etc.

"Take anything else we really need," Hamilton mumbled, looking carefully at the shelves of food in the main 'store' part of the building, "and then we need to find a way out of here."

"I think I found our way out," Peggy said.

"How?"

"There's a door to the back alley-way," she pointed out, "saw it in the office. We can go through there."

"Yes, but what then? We still have to get to our car, you know, where all the zombies are."

"Distract them, maybe... they seem to react to noise. So we can throw a rock down the street and lay low until they leave."

"Better than nothing," Hamilton sighed, willing to give it a try.

So they did just that.

Carefully and quietly, they crept out from the building with their backpacks loaded. The loud growling from the zombies on the other end of the chain-link fence made both adults uneasy but they continued on.

"There," Peggy pointed to a fire escape on the side. It was old and metal, likely to rust and cave. "I'll go to the top and throw a rock."

"You are not leaving me down here," Hamilton said quickly and Peggy sighed.

"Fine, but I'll go first. So if I slip you can break my fall."

Hamilton had many witty remarks he could make to his friend but he kept them inside his mind as Peggy began to climb the fire escape, the rock under her arm. When she was halfway up, Hamilton began after her.

"Woah," Peggy breathed as they both stood at the top of the building. She marveled at the six or so zombies who were prying at the doors of the pharmacy.

"I'll throw the rock," Hamilton declared.

"No way, you're so weak,"

"What? Am not!"

"Are too!"

"Let me throw it!" Hamilton whined. Peggy hissed and let out a sigh, handing the heavy rock to her older brother. He smirked at his petty victory and heaved as he launched the rock over the end of the building, sending it as far as he could make it go.

It landed a rough fifteen feet away from the edge of the building, which was about thirty feet from their car. Almost immediately, a couple of the undead turned their attention and began to slowly walk there.

"Why aren't the other ones going?" He hissed and looked over at Peggy, who was loading the gun with the bullets from her backpack.

"It wasn't loud enough," she shrugged and aimed carefully at the distance. When she fired, it hit a glass window nearly eighty feet away from the building. She smirked victoriously as the zombies all went toward that other building.

She shot again for good measure, ensuring that all undead in the area would be distracted, and pulled Hamilton by the arm to the fire escape.  Hamilton was too happy with relief to be disappointed that his friend had, once again, outdone him.

They waited in the alley before making sure the coast was clear. Then they dashed on a count of three to Peggy's jeep.

"Let's get the fuck out of here," Hamilton panted, locking the doors. Peggy nodded quickly and started the car, drawing some attention from the zombies down the street.

In fear, she gassed it and spun it around completely to head back the way they came.

"That was so fucking close," he put a hand to his head, "how long were we gone?"

Peggy glanced at the clock on the dash and hissed.

"Nearly three— no, four hours!"

"Fuck! John is going to murder me,"

"Yeah, he'll suffocate the fuck out of you while hugging you. Honestly, he's so clingy."

"He's worried for my safety!" Hamilton argued, his face growing red in anger at somebody insulting his husband's loving nature. A bit needy and attached nature, but Peggy just didn't understand why.

"Sorry," she mumbled. "I love John and all, Alex, but maybe... maybe, in this case, he's too much to put your life on the line for."

"What the fuck, Peggy?" Hamilton just shook his head in disgust, "John is the love of my life. He needs me. I am not going to leave the person I love the most in the dirt, okay? This is the worst time to abandon him."

"I'm not saying to abandon him!" She said defensively.

"Then what are you saying?"

"You're risking your life for him! If you die what happens to Frances? He can't protect Frances like you can!"

"Shut up!" Hamilton had enough of this, "You don't know anything about John! Or me, apparently. You don't understand!"

"Then make me understand!"

"You wouldn't, even if I explained it!" Hamilton shouted and then quieted his voice as he leaned against the window, "Eliza would have understood."

Peggy said nothing to this and kept driving. Maybe she was abrasive at times but when it came to Hamilton she knew when to shut up and just drive. If they got into this now she'd crash the car.


	7. Into The Doctor’s Office

The two had at last made it home. They lugged their two backpacks inside to the house and Peggy yelped in surprise at the faint traces of dark blood on the floor.  "Oh no," Hamilton murmured in fear. He took the gun out of his back pack and burst through the kitchen, screaming Laurens' name loudly.

"Pa...?" Frances whispered as she came out of Peggy's bedroom. She looked startled, but her face quickly softened.  She ran to him and hugged him.  Hamilton immediately scooped his small daughter up and hugged her tightly, his eyes wet with tears.

"Frances!" He exclaimed, "Where's your Dad?"

"Basement," she murmured, making Hamilton's heart crumble. "With one of those zombies."

Hamilton swore under his breath and set Frances down as he and Peggy frantically called for John. Peggy was a little less in the spirit, so she checked up with Frances.

Suddenly, Laurens pushed the basement door open, furrowing his eyebrows.

"I'm right here," he said as if it was obvious.

"John!" Hamilton shouted and nearly toppled his husband over in a hug. He hugged him so tightly Laurens thought he was going to pop, but still hugged back desperately. He pulled away and grabbed him by the shoulders. "Where the hell were you?!"

"I was..." Laurens trailed off, not wanting to tell his husband what he was doing in the basement with a dead body. Especially if Hamilton didn't even know about the body. "Looking for something."

"Something?"

"Batteries," he lied, "How was it? Are you both okay?"

"Of course," Hamilton dug into his backpack and pulled out one of the bottles of meds. Laurens sighed happily and hugged him again.

"Were there any people?  Or... undead?" He asked, not knowing what to call them. 

"Yeah," Hamilton admitted.

"Are you okay? Any injuries?"

"Fine, Fine.  Fran said you were with a zombie in the basement and I panicked. Um...? Is that true, or...?”

"Oh, she has an active imagination," Laurens said.  Frances gave him a dirty look.

Neither Laurens nor Hamilton noticed that Peggy had slipped off into the basement. They knew she was down there, though, when they heard a mortified scream. Laurens cursed himself under his breath as Hamilton quickly leaped past him and clomped down the stairwell. Laurens followed his husband to see his horrified expression staring at the body that was on the floor and had been cut open in the chest. 

"John..." Hamilton said slowly.

"John!" Peggy interrupted before Hamilton could get out his thought, "What the fuck is wrong with you?!"

Laurens just pushed past Hamilton and walked carefully to the body. His husband and friend just stared like he was clinically insane.

"You could have gotten Frances killed! Why the fuck are you dissecting one of those things in my basement?! You damn moron!"

"Hey!" Hamilton cut in firmly, "Peggy, calm down. This is not a time to be yelling at him."

"Fuck off, Alex.  I don't need you protecting me," Laurens huffed.  "It was trying to get in.  I couldn’t leave it out there so I killed it and dragged it to the basement."

"You're insane!" Peggy shrieked.

Peggy put her nose in the air and turned around, running up the stairs quickly, leaving the other two standing next to a limp corpse. Hamilton put his face in his husband's chest and hugged him securely.

"John," he murmured seriously. He grabbed Laurens' chin to force him to look at him, pulling the blond man's gaze down.  He carefully studied his husband's eyes. "You can't do things like this."

"I wanted to figure out what was wrong..." he admitted.

"I know. But you can't do this, what if Frances were to come down here and see this?"

"I have a feeling she's going to see a lot of shit at this point of her life," Laurens growled, "and this is important. If we want to figure out what to do we have to find out how these zombies work."

"How do they work, John?" Hamilton huffed, an accusing look in his eye. "Are you going to magically figure out how the dead comes back to life because you're tearing a corpse open? You're not Frankenstein."

"First of all, you don't get to point fingers at me.”

"Nobody is pointing fingers at you."

"Yes, you are," he insisted, "second, I am not crazy. I'm not eating his blood or anything. I am a medical student and a veteran I know what I'm fucking doing. And third, I am not resurrecting a dead body. I am studying it."

"Frankenstein studied dug-up bodies before resurrecting his monster," Hamilton added with a small mutter.

"Stop being a baby."

"Then what the fuck are you doing to study it?!"  He whisper-yelled.

"I-I don't know!  For your information," Laurens squinted his eyes at the redhead, "they don't die before they come alive. They aren't resurrected once dead. They're still alive, but parts of their frontal lobe that control free will and the part of the spinal cord that controls reflexes have been infected with a disease that destroys the cells and regenerates new ones.  There was a tumor on his upper neck.  I mean, it's just a theory, but who knows?"

"Okay." Hamilton contemplated this for a moment. He trusted his husband to know what he was doing, but he wasn't so sure if it would help in he long run. He didn't want to risk Laurens getting infected but knew that he was smart enough not to be careless.  Usually. Reckless, but not careless. "I trust you."

"Seriously?" Laurens' face lit up with happiness and he hugged Hamilton, "Thank you."

"You're welcome," Hamilton sighed. "Now to talk to Peggy."

The two had made their way upstairs, where Peggy was feeding Frances lunch with her meds.

"I'll take over from here," Laurens said to her.  She stared at him angrily and sighed, letting Laurens talk to his daughter.  Peggy went to the basement to unpack their stuff in the storage and freezer.

"I'll help," Hamilton declared.  The two of them went downstairs and Peggy uncomfortably glared at the dead body.

"We can't let that thing stay here," Peggy hissed, "my whole basement will smell and we could get whatever that sickness is." 

"What?  John is researching," Hamilton argued.

"Then John can take his freaky death-fetish elsewhere!"

"We are not kicking my husband out!"

"He's dangerous!"  Peggy flailed her arms, "He killed one of those things and dragged it to my basement and cut it up!  He's crazy!"

"Don't call him that!" 

"He is!  I don't trust him."

"Shut the fuck up!"

Peggy hissed in response and put her backpack back on.  "Then I'm leaving."

"No, you are not!"

"We need to find Eliza anyway." 

"Eliza is in New York City!  You want to go to the fucking city?!"

"We have to find her!"  Peggy argued.

"She's probable dead by now!"  Hamilton found himself screaming.  He drew back his breath and panted, looking at Peggy in silence who glared at him with tears welling in her eyes.

"Fuck you," she murmured and ran upstairs.

"Wait!"  He called and ran after her but she ignored him, storming out the front door.  "Fuck!"

John looked startled as he stopped what he was doing to look up at his husband.

"Where is she going?"  Laurens asked.

"I don't know," Hamilton responded then ran his fingers through his hair.  "We need to stop her.  Get your shit together."

"What?"

"I am not leaving you behind again, John!"  Hamilton shouted, frustrated, "last time I left you alone you killed one of those zombies!  So get your shit and let's go!"

"Yeah, I killed a zombie! I'm fully capable, Alex, and I am not dragging my eleven year old along to go chase your run-away bestie!"

"Come on, John," he urged.  "I don't want something to happen to you or Frances, and I-I don't want something to happen to me or to Peggy, okay?  Please, Jack, I-I'm begging you."

Laurens closed his eyes, taking in an aggravated breath and letting it out again.  He took Hamilton's hand.

"Fine.  Whatever."

Hamilton sighed in relief and pecked him quickly on the lips.  "Thank you, Laur."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey! Sorry for being a lazy shit and not updating. Y’know, school, depression, laziness, generic excuses, generic excuses. Bottom line, it’s here now. I promise to update more often (weekly, hopefully) and I’ll aim for Sundays, Mondays, or Tuesdays for those updates. Something like that. My timezone is EST, so it’s 10:30 PM on a school night and I have to get up at five, BUT I PROMISED TO UPDATE AND THEREFORE AM DOING SO BEFORE I FORGET.
> 
> Anyway, here. 
> 
> Aside from that, thank you all so much for your comments and kudos <3 I’m trying to reply to them all but hey, again, I’m lazy.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Your Tuesday Angst™️

"I feel like this may be a bad idea," Laurens said, gritting his teeth.  Hamilton just sped up the car.

"Peggy is out there because she's mad at me.  If she dies I will never, ever forgive myself.  You know that as well as I do," Hamilton huffed and his grip on the steering wheel tightened.  Laurens said nothing more, he just slumped down in his seat and glared out the window.  He didn't want his life, his husband's life, or his daughter's life to be put in danger because his husband's friend had a temper tantrum.  Besides, Laurens was always the one defending her.  When she dropped out of college and had nowhere to go, he begged Hamilton to let her stay.  When her boyfriend broke up with her and stole her car, Laurens got his ass up and got it back.  Yet Peggy always was so quick to slight her hand to him.  To anybody, really, which is why Laurens tried not to take it too personally, though the thoughts were burning a hole in his head.

"How do we even know where she went?"  Laurens finally asked. 

"The interstate," Hamilton insisted, "obviously."

"'Obviously'?  How is that obvious in the slightest?"

"Where else would she go?  She left to find Eliza."

"Oh."

"If we hurry, we should be able to catch up to her," said Hamilton.  He gazed out at the freeway ahead of them.

"What if we run out of gas?"  Laurens asked, earning a shrug.  "We won't have a safe way home."

"There's half a gallon in the trunk, we'll be fine," he sighed.

"I don't want Frances' life to be in danger, Alex."

"Jacky," Hamilton sighed and removed one of his hands from the wheel to put on John's knee. He rubbed gentle circles over the knee cap and continued, "Frances' life is not in danger.  I wouldn't put her life on the line.  But Peggy's life could be, we need to help her."

"Don't 'Jacky' me. This is stupid. Peggy can handle herself."

"I can't live with myself if something were to happen to her, John."

"Nothing will happen to her."

"Yeah, you say that," Hamilton retorted defensively, "but going to the city is stupid and we have to get her before she does."

"Life goes on! If Peggy d—" he paused, his breath catching, "...If something happens to Peggy, life will go on. You can't sulk forever."

"Hah. Could say the same for you and Francis."

Laurens' eyes widened. He couldn't feel anger, only hurt and shock. Hamilton stayed seething for a moment before taking a deep breath.

"John, I'm sorry."

"Sure," he replied, the anger now becoming him. He bit his lip and looked out the window. 

They drove until they saw Peggy's jeep, which was in a ditch and flipped on its' side by the edge of the thick woods.  Hamilton immediately spotted it and pulled over on the side of the highway; quickly, he jumped out and stumbled down into the ditch where Peggy sat on the roof of her car, glaring angrily.

"Peggy!"  Hamilton sighed happily, "Oh my God, what happened?!  Are you alright?"

She hopped off the roof of the jeep and hissed in pain.  John, too, got out of the car, holding the sleeping Frances in his arms.  He had a backpack on his back thought it was fairly unpacked.  Begrudgingly he whispered, "Are you okay?"

"Why did you leave?"  Hamilton asked her, offering her an arm to lean against seeing as her calf was badly bleeding through the light pink cloth that was tied around it.  

"Are you really asking me that?"  She whispered angrily.  Peggy pointed to her wounded leg and raised her voice, "Him!  I left because your husband is insane, Alexander!"

Laurens said nothing, he just quietly glared.

"Don't call him that.  He's not insane."

"Look at him!"  She pointed accusingly, "He was dissecting a dead body in my basement!  And it's not just that, it's everything!  We are in the middle of an apocalypse and this bipolar piece of shit has to complain because you're getting medicine for your child!"

"Don't use that against him! He is not bipolar and even if he was, that's not any reason to be angry!"  Hamilton shouted. Laurens glanced down at Frances, who was still asleep.

"Who knows?!  He may be!  You never got him tested, did you?  For all we know he could be a crazy, suicidal serial killer!  He's insane, admit it.  You know he is."

"Shut the fuck up!"  He screamed defensively, "You don't know anything about John!  You have no idea what sorts of fucking hell he has been though!  Why are you such a bitch?!"

"Me?  The bitch?!"

"Yes, you!  You're a bitch!"

"Shut up, both of you,"  Laurens raised his voice, interrupting the two. They had all been so absorbed in their arguing that they didn't notice the couple dozen zombies shuffling towards them.  "Stop your goddamn yelling and get past this shit! In case you didn't notice, there's goddamn infected all around us!"

Hamilton looked horrified as a zombie came behind Laurens.  Laurens knew it was there, however, and he quickly dashed for the woods, Frances in his arms (no awake), while Peggy and Hamilton took off after him. 

Peggy wasn't as fast, though, so Hamilton had to stop to help her by supporting her.  In an argument or not, they were brother and sister and the two knew they needed to stick together.  Peggy tripped over her feet, bringing both her and Hamilton to the ground.  A few zombies swarmed around them.

Laurens was moving fast in order to preserve the life of his daughter in his arms but when he turned back to look for Hamilton, he stopped.  As in, he felt like his heart stopped.

"Alex!"  He screamed desperately, "Fuck, Alex!  Alex!"

He suddenly turned on his heel into the woods, his heart shattered at the realization that Alex was as good as dead.  Even so, he had to protect Frances.  If she died, he'd be left with nothing.

"Dad!" Frances whispered, trying to push away.  "We have to help Pa!"

He finally stopped and took some deep breaths as he gazed around him.  He had gone deeper into the woods by accident, finding himself lost amongst the thick trees. He set the frail eleven year old down, panting. She was heavy, Sure, but he could handle it.

"Pa!" Frances called desperately. "Pa, he— he..."

"Fran, listen to me," Laurens said quickly, heart pounding. He looked at the blonde girl and took deep breaths. "Your Pa, he..."

"He's dead! He's dead, we could have helped him!" Frances whispered, pain in the young girl's voice.

"Shit," Laurens muttered. He looked down at Frances, who had stopped crying in shock as a response to whatever was happening.  He knelt down on the forest floor and heaved a breath.  He couldn't cry in front of his daughter.  But the love of his life—

"Dad!" Frances said, worried.  "Dad, get up."

"I'm so sorry, Frances," Laurens buried his face in his hands.  "I don't want you to have to see your dad cry."

"Pa..." she whispered, looking off into the distance.  

Laurens jumped up when he heard movement in the brush around them. He lowered his voice and whispered to Frances, "Be— be silent, Fran."

"But what if it's Pa or Peggy—?"  Frances argued, prompting Laurens to cover her mouth as another rustle was heard.

Frances had no choice but to comply to being silent. Laurens' knees were on the verge of giving out as more rusting was heard.

He stared at the leaves that shook as one of the zombies stumbled out towards him and Frances. Laurens fist tightened around the hammer he was holding in his right hand. With his daughter holding his left hand, he raised the hammer in his right. The zombie came even closer. 

Laurens held Frances' head against his body so she couldn't see as he swung the hammer into the zombie's soft head. Blood dripped out and he swung again, all the while he was grinding his teeth and grunting, frightened. Then, with a third hit, the zombie stumbled back and fell in front of his feet. 

"Fuck!" He proclaimed softly as the body just barely twitched. It's head was bashed and splattered on Laurens' hand, the hammer, and the ground.  Frances made the poor decision of peeking, only having energy to part her lips as her eyes widened.  Laurens panted heavily.  Images of everything before he met Alexander clouded his mind suddenly, and he felt the bile rise in his throat.

"Dad," Frances whispered.

Gunshots sounded in the distance, causing Laurens to jump anxiously. He wiped the blood off of the hammer and clutched it in his hand.

"We have to run now, Fran," he told her insistently.

"But what If Pa is back there?!"

"No! We have to go. We can't risk that. We have to be soldiers right now, okay?" He leaned down and softened his tone, taking her hand again. "It'll be faster if I carry you."

"I can run fast."

"Okay. Hold on to my hand, then."

They began running through the trees in no particular direction other than somewhere away from where they were. Frances held onto Laurens' much larger hand, running almost as fast as he was but mostly because he was practically dragging her. She stared at her boots as they stepped on the leaves, rustling with every noise.

Laurens felt his chest tighten. He held tightly onto Frances' hand and continued to sprint through the trees.  They were running for quite sometime when the brush became thinner.  At last, they had made it out of the woods.

Laurens' legs felt like jelly and his lungs were on fire, but his and his daughter's lives were worth the run.

"Houses," Frances panted. Her skin was clammy, but a cool spring breeze eased her tension.

The woods had led them to a clearing on the edge of some yards in an unfamiliar neighborhood.

"Oh, Jesus Christ," Laurens growled angrily.  He was about to turn back into the woods when he heard shuffles and growls behind them.  Not wanting to take a chance, he made a run for one of the yards.

Without a second thought, he tried to pry the door open to save himself and to save Frances from inevitable death.

Laurens didn't think before barreling in and slamming the door behind him.  He cursed under his breath, looking around the abandoned house.  He locked the door and looked around.

The kitchen was almost completely bare and the house silent.  He checked each of the rooms, all were empty as well.  Well, except for one bedroom, which was locked.  He knocked on the door and couldn't hear noises so he assumed that it was an office or something.  Someone had already cleaned this place out when they left.

Laurens sighed in relief and set Frances down on the couch.  "Are you hungry, Fran?"

"Is it safe to sleep?" She looked exhausted.  Laurens brushed the blond curls out of her face and laid her down on the couch so she could sleep. 

He realized that he didn't know what came next.  So, he decided he'd stay in this house as long as possible.  Then the next thought dawned on him.

Hamilton and Peggy were probably dead.

He was alone with Frances.  He had to protect her.

"Lexi," he whispered gently to himself as he positioned himself on the couch next to Frances.  "Lexi, I'm so sorry.  This is all my fault." 

Laurens' voice cracked as he curled up and began to cry.  Then sob.  Then shake as he wept violently, trembling with every breath he took.

"God, I'm such a cry baby!" He screamed at the emptiness of the house.  He tried to steady himself but ended up continuing to cry.  "Fuck!  Fuck you!  Fuck all of this!"

Laurens crumpled down and rocked himself more as he cried.  Frances barely even twitched in her sleep.  She must have been exhausted, so exhausted in fact that she couldn't hear Laurens screaming.

Laurens tried to stop crying when he saw Frances waking up.

"You hungry now, Fran?"  He whispered, voice still wavering.  She nodded slightly, her throat feeling a bit dry and raspy.  Laurens dug into his backpack and found a granola bar.  He opened it and handed it to her when a loud crash came from one of the bedrooms, startling him greatly.

Laurens jumped up and grabbed his hammer, nearing the bedroom.  It was the one that was locked.  He kicked the door three times before it burst open.  Laurens raised the hammer, ready to kill a zombie, but instead there was only a young man, holding a gun in his hands, pointed at John.

"Drop it," the man demanded.  "Put down the hammer."

"I don't mean you any harm," Laurens complied, his voice trembling as he set the hammer by his feet, "I thought you were one of them." His face was still red from his crying, hands shaking but for different reasons. They always did that.

"Who's with you?" 

"It's just me and my daughter, I promise, I didn't know anybody lived here."

The man lowered his gun with a sigh, adjusting the beanie on his head.  He had straight, dark brown hair and barely faint freckles on his nose, as well as a worn blue tank top and blue jeans. 

"I'm Benjamin Tallmadge," he said.  "Don't try anything, or I will shoot you."

"Do you even know how to use a gun?"

Laurens yelped and jumped out of the way as Tallmadge fired the pistol.  It hit a glass pot right behind Laurens.

"Damn, that was my favorite vase," he shrugged.  "And yeah, I know how to use a gun.  I won't hesitate.  Where's this daughter of yours?"

"She's on the couch eating..." Laurens mumbled, wiping his eyes and leaving the hallway with Tallmadge following.  Laurens sat down next to Frances and put a hand on her back. She was wide-eyed, afraid of the new man.

"Who's he?" she asked her father.

Laurens sighed. "Benjamin Tallmadge. He lives here, apparently."

"That's me," he said with a slight hint of charisma. Frances squinted her eyes. 

"Could you put that gun away? I don't want her to be—"

"I'm not scared!" Frances defended herself quickly. She huffed and crossed her arms. "Guns don't scare me. Aunt Peggy has one."

Laurens almost wanted to correct her on the preposition but couldn't bring himself to doing so. He shook his head and wiped his eyes. 

"Are you hungry?"  Laurens offered, "I have food."

"Starving."

"Well," John kind of laughed a little, "I have a lot since my friend and my partner raided a store somewhere ten or so miles from here."

"Oh. Where're they at?"

"Um," Laurens stammered quietly, his heart hurting a lot.  He felt ill. "On the other side of the woods, there was a swarm of the undead and they... you know."

"Oh, damn, I'm so sorry," Tallmadge looked down at his hands.  Laurens just suppressed emotion as he handed the man a small bag of cheez-itz. "Thanks."

"No problem. How old are you?"  Laurens asked.  He pretended to be unfazed by the talk of his dead husband.  He was very good at hiding his feelings and had been doing so for as long as he can remember.

"Twenty-nine," Tallmadge answered. "How about you?"

"Same," he shrugged.

"Young for a kid."

"Love her regardless."

"That's good." 

The small talk quieted and the two sat there in silence.  Frances finished eating and stood up to pull on Laurens' arm. 

"Dad, I'm hungry," she said.

"Fran, you just ate," Laurens lectured before realizing that she hadn't eaten breakfast, "Wait, hold on, I'll get you something."

"She's cute... I mean, it's sad, but it's cute," Tallmadge smiled sadly.  John sighed in relief and handed another granola bar to Frances, who was indifferent to the conversation.  "Your friend and wife, did you see them get... you know...?"

"I—" Laurens sucked in a breath.  He didn't want to admit to this stranger that his partner wasn't female.  It wouldn't even matter anymore, now.  He had no energy to deny, though.  "I saw them get knocked over, and there were so many around them so I held Frances in my arms and ran.  I couldn't look back."

"I am so sorry, man.  I can't imagine ever seeing my girl get..." he trailed off.  

"You have a girlfriend?  Where is she now, how do you know she's not dead?"

"Oh, she's not dead.  Not Mary.  She should be back soon."

"...Oh.  Sorry about intruding on your house, man."

"Don't worry.  End of the world."

Laurens bit his inner cheek.  "How long were you in the house?  I checked every damn room, it was empty."

"Well," Tallmadge looked over to the window for a moment as he spoke, "I saw you in the house on the couch through the window.  Mary and I, we went out to go find food.  The only window unlocked was the one in the bedroom, and I jumped through but fell over the nightstand.  So I got my gun ready.  Since, obviously, you heard me."

"And what about your girlfriend?"

"I told you, she'll be back soon."

"I don't feel good," Frances mumbled.

"Drink some water." Laurens found a bottle of water and gave it to her. She drank half of it and laid her head on his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Tallmadge quietly ate his granola bar.  He smiled a bit at how good of a father Laurens was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Holy shittttt
> 
> So I had a crazy ride with this chapter bc I had it all written and edited and ready for today, but I accidentally deleted it? So I had less than a week to freaking get this shit in order and get it ready for publishing. Never gonna give you up, people.
> 
> Never gonna let you dowwwwwwn


	9. Voice of a True Soldier

"So, what next?"  Tallmadge asked.  Laurens stopped his pacing of the kitchen to lean against the counter, looking over to his newest comrade.  Frances sat on the other end of the counter as she tried to involve herself in the conversation.

"I say we fortify the place for now.  Wait for your girl to get back from whatever the hell she's doing— when food supply gets low, we can make a run for it.  Use the safety of daylight to drive a car out of town.  Look, we can stay alive if we stick together."  He sighed, pushing his body back up.  "As long as that's alright with you and your girlfriend.  If not, Fran and I will leave in the morning."

"I don't want to make you leave.  And I doubt Mary would want you to, either. She's pretty good with kids. Works at a daycare." He paused and cleared his throat. "Worked. Anyways, you're right, man. Safer in numbers. Mary and I are good at handling ourselves but sticking with other people seems like a good plan to me."

"Right, then it's settled. We should take turns keeping watch at night, too. How many beds you got here?"

"One queen in the bedroom is all. The couch is a pull-out, though."

"Good. Whoever is taking watch will stay out on the recliner, then. Frances and I will sleep on the pull-out, and you and your girl will obviously have your bed. Say that we take turns throughout the night taking watch— first person takes watch for the first half of the night, wakes up the second person to take the second half of the watch. Third person sleeps all night. Then, first person gets to sleep the next night, the second person taking the first half of the watch, and the third taking the second. We'll keep cycling out nightly. This way, everybody gets substantial sleep, and at least one person gets a full night's rest every night. Watch begins at ten, we switch out at three AM, then the other person takes watch for the rest of the night. That gives each of them five hours of sleep, more or less depending on when people sleep or wake up." After having said all this, Laurens took a deep breath. "Understand?"

"Uh— yes. Yes, that sounds reasonable," Tallmadge agreed as he nodded. "What about food rations?"

"I have plenty in my bag. When your girlfriend gets back, she should have food, too. I don't think we need to 'ration' it necessarily, just be smart about how much we eat per person. Eating food is obviously important to our energy and health, but eating the right food is even more important. You can survive on very little if you eat the right stuff."

Frances continued to hit the back of her feet against the cabinets as she swung her legs in and out rhythmically. Laurens just tapped his fingers against the countertops— Tallmadge fidgeting a little. It was clear that everybody was on edge.

"Mary will be back soon."

Laurens questioned, "Why'd you split up in the first place?"

"To go get different supplies. She raided for food, I raided for tools. There was a box store downtown. I got in, and the only things I could really carry back with me without having to be overloaded and unable to defend myself was a knife and two handguns. Mary already has a knife on her, obviously. But now we have more weapons. And ammunition. It took forever to be able to break into the store, though, and then into the cases where they kept the weapons. Have to say that it was worth it, though."

"So... she'll be back soon for sure?"

"For sure. I trust her."

"Okay."

More silence. It was painful. Everybody continued with their fidgets. All Laurens could picture was a world in which it was Hamilton out getting food, and where it was him meeting a stranger in his own home and assuring him that Hamilton would be back soon. Where he had confidence that he could come back. But that wasn't real. 

Fresh in Laurens' mind was Hamilton's hand. He wasn't sure why he pictured that, but he did. He recognized the hand of his mind. A slim, pale hand callused from writing all the time. He pictured the way it felt in his own hand. The way it felt pressed against his cheek. The way Hamilton had a habit of curling his hands into his chest before awkwardly shifting them into a crossed-arm position. It was a tactic to make him seem less vulnerable.

The comfort from the hand ceased, though. Now, Laurens saw it only covered in dark red. He saw the dark red on his boots, on his uniform, and on his chest. Then, he saw a face that didn't belong to his husband. He felt his breath hitch as he tried to stop imagining it.

Eventually, with the image still vivid in his mind, he decided just to continue on. If he couldn't get it out now, he'd force himself to forget about it.

"So you live here with your girlfriend?" Laurens asked Tallmadge. 

"Yeah.  Rented it out.  Like, our first step to being domestic and learning to work together like a real couple.  What about you and your wife?  Where're you from?"

"Uh, New York. Not the city. We honestly lived closer to Jersey than anything. But you could see the city on the horizon line if you got high enough in the air— not from our house. We've been married since 2015, but we were together longer than that." He laughed nervously, remembering suddenly the excitement and pride that rushed through him as he and Hamilton watched the outcome of Obergefell v. Hodges on TV. They kissed, they laughed, they cried happy tears; it was victory. It was happiness in its purest form. He could still feel the way Hamilton wrapped his arms around his neck and pretty much just launched himself at him. He could picture him jumping off the couch and calling the Schuylers, who were just as excited.  Frances was probably too young to understand what was going on, though it was only a few years ago.

"2015? Did you live together before you got married, then?" Tallmadge asked. Laurens suddenly pulled himself back to reality.

"Yes, uh— my wife and I had Frances and moved in together but we held off marriage because... of money issues," he lied. He glanced over to Frances, whose face was red. 

"You're a liar," Frances said. She got off the counter and ran out of the room, finding a bathroom and locking herself in. Laurens put his head in his hands.

"Uh... what's she mean by that?"

"Nothing," Laurens snapped. "She's touchy and emotional. Her mom just died."

"Okay, okay. I wasn't trying to— sorry." Tallmadge looked down at his feet. "You're not obliged to tell me anything, man.  But if there's something I need to know—"

"Nothing important," he sighed, closing his eyes.  

"Okay."

"So, food.  I'll have to count it out but again, I think we have enough for everybody.  You said you guys have weapons?"

"Yeah.  How about you?"

"Just this hammer. Or friend had the gun before... But I think finding something more will help.”

“Do you want to go back? I mean, to where your wife and friend was? Just... I don’t know, to get their supplies and maybe have a funeral?”

“I— don’t do funerals,” he whispered. A cloud of melancholy looked over his head. “Excuse me. I should go talk to Fran.”

“Yeah, you do that.”

Laurens pushed himself away from the counter and trudged to the bathroom before knocking gently on the door. “Fran?” he called to her. “Frances, could we talk, please?”

A moment later a click was heard and she stood before him. Her blond hair that was much like her father’s, except curly, was down from its bun. She didn’t look great. Her cheeks were pink and her eyes red, an overall anger displayed on her face.

“Fran,” he repeated, suddenly unsure of himself. Years of raising his siblings felt wasted, now, as he could only stare at his own flesh and blood. Frances crossed her arms, turning and allowing Laurens to walk into the bathroom with her.

“Pa is dead,” she whispered. Laurens quickly closed the door and knelt down to face her. “—and it’s your fault. You let him die and now you won’t even say his name, or say anything about him!”

“Frances,” he whispered with a shake of the head. “I’m sorry. I miss him.”

“You don’t act like it.”

“I can’t act like it. I really do miss him and I loved him more than you could ever imagine, but... t-things happen.”

“That’s not fair,” Frances said with a whine, covering her face. 

“I know, it isn’t. But your Pa, he...” Laurens felt his breath grow quivery, his eyes stinging. He decided not to talk at all. For a moment he just stayed on the floor. He watched Frances stand and wipe her face.

“I hate you,” she declared angrily. “I hate you so much. ‘Cause you hate me. And you hate Pa, and you hate Peggy. You don’t even pretend to care. It’s not fair!”

“Hey, you don’t really believe that,” he said to her. It took everything in him not to cry, so his voice remained weak and soft. It trembled like his hands. “I l-love them both and I love you more than I love life itself, Fran, you mean everything to me. You’re my daughter. I love you to the moon and back.”

She shook her head at him, going to the door. Laurens stood up as well as they both rushed out to hear commotion in the kitchen. He wiped his face quickly. 

In the kitchen stood Tallmadge and his girlfriend, who was covered in blood up to her knees. She was washing her face with a dry towel, breathing heavily.

“Laurens, Frances, this is Mary!” Tallmadge smiled widely. “Mary, this is John Laurens and his daughter, Frances.”

“Hey-a,” Mary waved uncaringly as she continued to wipe herself off. “Ah, sorry for how I look, I just— ran into some trouble.”

“Are you okay? Any injuries?” Laurens asked.

“No, no, I’m fine. Thank you, though.”

“No problem.”

“So,” Tallmadge proclaimed loudly, “Mary is on board with you staying.”

“Thank you,” Laurens smiled. Frances just rolled her eyes and went to sit on the couch, curling her legs in with a sigh.


	10. Conflicted Trails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Frances' grief is translated to anger; Laurens' to sour memories.

It was morning, far too early for everybody else in the house, but early enough for Laurens. He had barely gotten any sleep last night and so waking up at four wasn't the best decision, but it wasn't even a decision at all necessarily so he considered himself exempt from blame.

Laurens stood in the kitchen. He didn't pace, he didn't tap the counter, he didn't scratch his arms, he just stood. He stood stoically with his elbows on the counter and face in his hands. He thought about Hamilton and Peggy. He thought about them all night, even entertaining a nightmare with face after face of people he had lost being plastered in his brain. 

After hours of standing still, feeling almost as if he was in some sort of coma in which he had no control over what he did (or at least had to try very, very hard to move his own limbs) Laurens decided to look up. The sun was up by now, approximately two and a half hours had gone by. He groaned at himself in disgust and forced himself to walk to the pull-out couch. 

"We survived the night," declared a voice loudly. Laurens looked to see Tallmadge, already dressed. He came down the hall and waved nonchalantly at Laurens. "How was your sleep?"

"Shitty. You?"

"Same, man. Damn," Tallmadge opened the fridge and sighed, "forgot we have no power. What do you have for food, again?"

Laurens shrugged, "Do you want a granola bar?"

"Sure."

Laurens dug through the bag and tossed him the food item. "Your girl awake yet?"

Now it was Mary's turn to trudge out of the hall, dressed as well. "Don't refer to me as 'his girl'," she complained, "I have a name, thank you."

"So, you are awake."

"Yeah, I am. Morning. Is the little girl awake?"

Laurens shook his head before Frances groaned and rolled over, covering her reddened cheeks and the print the quilt had left on her face from being in the same position so long. "I'm up," she said.

"Good," said Mary. "Then what's the plan?"

"Laurens and I were plannin' on heading over to the highway, see if we could find his wife and friend's bags," Tallmadge said. Frances let out a growl and laid back down, covering her face with the blanket. Laurens tried to comfort her in vain; she hit his arm away and made it clear that she didn't want anything to do with him.

"Our car was also there," Laurens reminded, however off put from his daughter's hostility. "And our friend had a gun somewhere, don't know if it was in her car or on her person, though." Laurens suddenly felt ill at the thought of taking Peggy's gun from her corpse, or worse, her living corpse. He covered his mouth subtly with his arm and turned his face. "Sorry."

"I'm sorry," Mary whispered.

"No, no, I'm fine, I'm fine. Don't be. You hungry?" he asked, taking some food out of his bag. He then turned to Frances and touched her shoulder. "Fran?"

"Fuck off."

Laurens' eyes widened in disbelief. "Excuse me? Frances Eleanor Laurens, why the hell would you ever think that's an appropriate thing to say?"

She sat up and pushed all of her blond curls from her face, eyes squinted. The two glared at one another before the shocking realization hit Laurens that he sounded exactly like his father; he hated it. So, he just turned away and huffed, rolling his eyes. He handed her a granola bar and stood, handing another one to Mary, who was watching in shock and amusement.

"She has a personality. And you're letting her off the hook like that?" Mary asked pointedly.

"She just lost her fucking mother. Don't tell me how to parent my goddamned kid," Laurens hissed, setting the granola bar behind her instead on giving it to her directly. Mary looked over to her boyfriend for some sort of support but Tallmadge just said with a shrug:

"Hey, you kind of deserved that one. You don't tell somebody how to parent."

Mary rolled her eyes. Laurens went and sat back down on the pull-out.

"I'm ready when you are," he sighed at last, despite the rising bile in his throat. Tallmadge looked at him in confusion. Laurens clarified, "—To go to the interstate."

"Oh, okay. I guess nothing is stopping us so we can go as soon as you want. Mary will watch Frances, she's usually good with kids. Just— figured that you wouldn't want her to be exposed to..."

Laurens nodded. He took a moment to think. He could either leave his daughter with a stranger or bring her to see her undead pa, neither of which were good. Mary did seem responsible, but she was also younger and sort of a bitch and Laurens knew he would hate himself forever leaving his daughter alone when she could get hurt. He thought about his younger brother and how he had left him alone, and how he still couldn't forgive himself. Then, he realized that as long as Frances stayed in the house with Mary, they should be fine. Right?

"Shit," Laurens mumbled to himself. "Yeah, Fran, stay here."

"I want to go," she said quickly.

"No."

"I want to go!" she insisted. Frances sat up by now, looking pleadingly. "I-I want to see them one last time, Dad." She then gave him a look that told all; a threatening look, almost, and he read it perfectly. "I want to see Peggy, and—"

"Okay," Laurens said quickly. "But you have to stay close."

"Then I'm coming too. Not staying here alone," Mary sighed. "Jesus."

"Fine. Let's all get our shit together, then."

• • •

Frances actually stayed close to Laurens, but not too close. She was a good three feet or so away from his side. Behind them walked Tallmadge and Mary. They trudged through the woods, each with a weapon or two on hand. 

"If you see one, let us take care of it, okay?" Laurens whispered to Frances. Frances just rolled her eyes and ignored him. "Fran, you can't be angry at me forever."

She continued to stay silent, now walking just a little bit faster than her father. Laurens' eye twitched slightly. He held his cool for as long as possible.

"Hey, I'm fucking sad, too," he said to her under his breath, hoping the two trailing them wouldn't hear. "I know you think I'm an asshole but there was nothing—"

"You could have done something!" she argued, voice now raised.

"Keep your voice down."

"You could have helped them. You're a soldier. They're dead because of you."

"Frances," he tried to keep calm, "I had to get you out of there. I understand that you're angry but you can't b-blame me for everything."

"Pa would have helped you," she hissed, walking faster again to leave the conversation.

Laurens was both seething and internally sobbing. "Frances Eleanor Laurens. I know you're hurting but I'll be damned if you think that's an excuse to not treat your father with respect."

Frances didn't turn to him. She muttered, "You sound like Grandpa."

"What?"

"You— sound— like— grandpa," she repeated, annunciating each word carefully. Laurens ground his teeth.

"I do not. You need to stop being rude. It's not fair to me or to anybody else."

With a heavy groan, Frances once again attempted to escape the conversation. She avoided being too close and they walked through the woods silently. After a little while later, they came out onto the busy, yet deserted, freeway. It wasn't difficult to figure out where their cars were; they walked in that direction. 

The whole time, Laurens had a pit in his stomach. He was waiting for the moment he'd glance off and see his husband's limber body limping nearby, perhaps creeping closer and closer with his blue eyes that once had so much color but were now white and aged after dying and being reincarcerated. He'd watch as Hamilton, no longer a man, stumbled over to him. Laurens was awaiting the moment when he knew he wouldn't have the guts to kill the body, if not for his motivator of his daughter by his side. Still, Laurens was afraid. He hadn't felt this type of fear in at least a decade. Not so severely, at least. It always loomed over him in a memory but he at least had some sort of control of not allowing it to get the best of him. However, at that moment he felt he was losing the battle.

"What did they look like?" Tallmadge asked, jogging to Laurens' side. Laurens pulled himself from that dark place and quickly took hold of reality.

"Hm?"

"Your wife and friend, what'd they look like?"

"Uh," he stammered for a moment, realizing suddenly that he couldn't describe Hamilton without disclosure that he was a guy. "Peggy, the friend, had curly black hair and pale skin... it was tied up in a bun. And Alex has red hair."

"You married a redheaded chick?" Mary asked, the corner of her lip going up a little. 

"Yeah..."

"Damn."

Laurens shrugged, his head down. He didn't say anything more.

When the group came upon the car, Laurens, who was shaky just slightly, told the others to back up so he could investigate. He leaned into the front seat and felt the bile rise in his throat. On the dash was a small photo, worked into a crevice. It was a photo of Laurens and Alexander, smiling at one another. The photo had been taken without their consent by none other than Eliza. Though the photo had been candid and taken with a Polaroid, it captured some sort of feeling. Hamilton kept it in his shitty car for five years and had yet to take it out.

Nostalgia rushed through Laurens. He put the small photo into his front pocket and held his breath as he continued to frisk the vehicle. After not finding anything useful, except for a couple empty McDonald's bags and some sort of empty coffee cup, he looked in the back seat. Laurens felt unbelievable grief tearing into him. The shocking remembrance of his best friend, his love, his world, just being gone– it hit him ceaselessly. He'd rather take a bullet to the shoulder than endure this pain.

Since he was alone in the car anyway, Laurens decided that it was safe to let some tears fall. Sobs choked in his throat and made an unflattering blubbering noise. He knew he must've seemed like a pathetic father (after all, what kind of grown man cries?) and to even think about Hamilton seeing him like this made him want to curl up and die right then and there. No amount of pain could ever compare to that of his heartbreak. 

But, he knew that all he had was Frances. He knew he had to protect her. It wouldn't be fair to leave now; not to Frances, not to her dead mother, and not to her pa. He vowed never to abandon another person after what happened in Afghanistan. He already broke that vow, again and again, so he had to make it right for his daughter.

Laurens picked up a shirt that was in the trunk. Some useless, oversized tee that Hamilton had bought at some stupid flea market at one point or another when they visited Virginia. It was tye-dye and had a brown paw outline on it. One of the ugliest things he had ever seen, Laurens resolved, but would keep it anyway. Laurens balled it up and put in his backpack. 

It took several more minutes of Laurens pretending to search the car before he was calmed again and his face looked stoic once again. He stepped out and shook his head.

"Nothing useful," Laurens declared before walking down into the ditch where Peggy's Jeep was still. He noted tactfully how secluded the certain area was (though the hum of zombies was heard further down the highway) as opposed to the attack that occurred just the day before. It was likely that they wandered off, but where to? and why? He observed that, unlike an enemy in warfare, the undead only moved when drawn by something. Noise; people; something. However, they were insatiable with hunger, just like mankind.

Peggy's jeep didn't provide anything interesting, either.

He heaved a sigh and looked sadly at the two adults and his daughter. He shook his head and got back out of the ditch, feeling like crying still. 

"Is this where– you know, where you lost them?" Mary whispered, sensing the pain on his face. 

"Yeah."

"Where'd they go, then?"

"Fuck, I don't know. I couldn't help them, I wanted to so badly but I couldn't."

Frances stomped her boot on the ground. She yelled, "Yes, you could've! That's bullshit! Pa would have tried to save you but you just let him an' Peggy go like they were nothing!"

Silence befell the group. Mostly from shock, of course, and Laurens from a mixture of shock, hurt, and anger as well. He couldn't really form sentences.

"I tried," he urged her at last, leaning up towards her. "Frances, I didn't want to lose you, too!"

"Pa would have helped you," she repeated.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super sorry that it took so long for me to get this out! I tried to post it by three but I had a shit ton of homework and, well, yeah. Here's your Tuesday update!


	11. Vive L’Amour

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Salty Peggy; Death Can’t Catch ‘em Yet

With wide eyes Hamilton watched Laurens break for the trees, holding Frances in his arms. He pushed with all His might against the zombie that was pinning him down. I’m a sudden burst of adrenaline he found his strength and kicked the dead body off of him and watched as it rolled backward into the ditch. 

"Fuck!" screamed Peggy, kicking her leg up and knocking one of the zombies aside.  The two broke away from the monsters and ran across the highway to safety, after Hamilton had realized that there were too many of the zombies to be able to follow Laurens into the woods.

"Where's John and Frances?!"  Peggy panted, weak in the knees as adrenaline coursed through her blood. She huffed, her ankle burning.  She tried to even out her weight as she leaned against a rock.  They were one side of the highway, while Laurens and his daughter were in the woods on the other side.

"He ran with Frances into the woods," Hamilton grumbled, eyes half-lidded. 

“He left us?!”

“He ran with Frances, Jesus Christ! He was using his instincts and ran.”

“He was using his ego. He didn’t fucking help us.”

“Frances is safe.”

“Why aren’t you pissed?” she questioned, angry. “Laurens is a soldier, isn’t it his duty to protect us? He’s your fucking husband!”

“He was a soldier,” Hamilton correctly sharply. “He’s a veteran. It was years ago.”

“He left us to die.”

He picked up his head. "Fuck you. Fuck, we need to go back.” His fingers ran through his hair when suddenly gunshots sounded in the distance.

"Was that John?"  Peggy asked.

"Couldn't be," replied Hamilton, "I have the gun in my backpack.  Must've been other survivors."

"Well, should we go look?" 

"Bad idea... we need to find John and Frances first."

She sighed and nodded submissively.  She limped her way back to Hamilton's side and held onto his arm as the two prepared to make their way back to the woods to find Laurens.  Unfortunately, they realized that the hoard of zombies was still lingering.  Hamilton helped Peggy into a nearby tree and he pulled himself up after.  The two sat like that for a while, waiting for the zombies to clear. 

"Hungry?" croaked Hamilton quietly.  They were helpless.

"A little," she admitted.

"Here." Hamilton was about to look for food before he realized Laurens had all of the food in his backpack.  "Fuck," he cursed and fiddled with the trigger on the pistol. 

They had been sitting there for over two hours.  Peggy fell asleep in her branch and Hamilton stayed awake, lost in thought. He woke Peggy up and helped her down from the tree now that the zombies were gone from the area they were in; he thought about the situation as Peggy remained silent.  At last, he declared, "Here's the plan.  The gunshots in town distracted them, didn't it?  We'll just shoot somewhere down the road and wait for them to leave."

"Good plan," Peggy nodded.

"But," Hamilton second-guessed himself, "we can't afford to wait that long.  There's zombies in the woods that'll kill John, and we've already wasted over two hours."

"He can hold his own."

"Not with having to protect Frances by himself..."

"He didn't have any trouble stabbing one of them and dragging it to my basement to cut that bitch open with Frances. He's fucking mental, Alex, he can take care of himself."

"Peggy, what the fuck?!"  Hamilton grew angry again.  Peggy pushed herself away from him, the pain of the weight on her ankle stinging unbearably.  She ignored it and leaned most of her weight on her other foot.

"It's the truth, whether or not you want to accept it," she huffed and folded her arms.  Hamilton wanted so badly to lash out and punch his friend in the nose but now was not the time. Maybe later.

"Do you have a better plan, Peggy?"  he changed the subject.  His voice was small.

"I dunno.  We could just go through them."

"That plan is worse than mine."

"I know."

"Come on," Hamilton pleaded, "help me out here.  If not for John, do it for Frances."

Peggy bit her lip and looked down at her feet.  She did love Frances more than anyone else, and Frances wasn't even her own daughter. 

"Alex, I genuinely don't have any other plan," she said quietly.  Hamilton shook his head and crossed his arms.

"We'll wait it out then, I guess?"

"Yeah."

"What if they come over here?"

"I stood on my car when I had nowhere else to go."

"Wait—!" he said a little too loudly.  He quieted his voice, "I have a crazy plan that might work."

"Spit it," Peggy shrugged.

"I'll run down the highway, shoot the gun.  Attract their attention.  When they clear, we'll run into the woods and find John."

"I don't think it's a good idea."

"It's the best we have!"  he protested.  "Look, John has done so much for you.  And for me, Pegs.  I love him.  And shit, we both love Frances to pieces.  I love her like she's my biological child, which she practically is."

"Fine." Peggy turned her head to the side. "What other weapons do we have in the backpack?"

"Two knives. The rest is pretty much random shit, like there's a first aid kit and a couple lighters, I think."

"Great," she rolled her eyes.

"Better than nothing," he pointed out.

"Yeah, yeah, hand the knives over."

"Hey," Hamilton put a hand on her shoulder. "I love you, okay?"

"Love you too, ass." She fondled with the knives and gripped the handles tightly, one in each hand.  Her jacket pulled at her elbows as she moved her arms.

"Stay here until you see them clear out, okay?"

"Yeah," she said in a small voice.

Hamilton took a deep breath and firmly grasped the pistol as he began to sprint down the side of the highway.  Once he was out of breath and far enough away, he raised the gun to the sky. He watched carefully as Peggy watched him.  He fired the gun three times and took a deep breath before flailing his arms as wildly as possible to attract attention.

Slowly, the zombies began to turned to him and moved towards him.  After enough of them got closer he headed for the woods. All of the zombies had cleared away, allowing Peggy to limp as fast as she could to the other end of the highway to retrieve Laurens, Hamilton sprinting after her.


	12. Millions of Little Words

Tallmadge, eyebrows raised, had no words.  He wasn't quite sure what was appropriate to say in a moment such as this; whether to call this traveler out for lies or pretend he hadn't heard.  And, not only that, but what was the big deal, anyway?  Why would Laurens hide something like this when there was no point?  Why would he think that some stranger would discriminate against him at a time like this when it was made clear that there was no God; or, perhaps, God was punishing society for their crimes against Him.  Either way, both Tallmadge and Mary were left in stunned silence.  

Laurens glanced around nervously before hearing Frances left out a low, frustrated noise.  Frances had no remorse for what she had said.  Her words echoed loudly in the group's minds.  "Pa would have helped you," she had said, and when she had said it, she had called her own father out.  Laurens was angry, no doubt, but knew he had nothing against his daughter.  He had every right to be angry but then again, no right at all.  It was a confusing paradoxical moment.  
     
"So, you're...?" Tallmadge began awkwardly, trying to let his shoulders fall loosely so he wouldn't look so tense.  He restarted, "Alex wasn't a girl?"

"No, he's not," Laurens muttered.    

"Why'd you lie?" 

Laurens shook his head as a response.  He took in a deep breath and slowly, laboriously, let it out.  Frances crossed her arms.

"Because he's ashamed," Frances filled in the silence with her anger.  She stepped away from L and didn't even spare him a glance.  

"Hey, man, you don't need to be..." Tallmadge, again, trailed off.  "—ashamed of it.  We're not gonna judge you."

"Yeah," Laurens breathed.  

"Was he still a redhead?" Mary asked in attempt to fix the tense environment.  

"Yeah."

"Nice."

Tallmadge said, "You don't even like redheads."

"Redheaded girls.  Redhead guys are fine, though," she said.

"Sexist."

"Well, it's more of an auburn," Laurens joined in.  He let out a short chuckle.  "A curly mess of auburn and... well, his eyes, they're dark blue and it makes the red hair look good.  Real' good.  And his skin is really peachy-colored and kind of pink when he smiles."

Mary smiled widely and felt herself laugh a bit.  Frances, eyes softening, looked to Laurens.  She quickly pulled her gaze away again, though, and looked at the ground.

"We should try to find them," Mary rubbed the nape of her neck, "if they're not here, then maybe they got away."

"I saw them die," Laurens clarified.

"A hundred percent?"  
     
"Well, I— I don't know.  The zombies were practically on top of them, and I couldn't look back.  And I don't want false hope that he could be alive when it's... damn.  Goddammit."

"Have a little bit of hope."

Laurens sighed and began walking toward the woods again, aimlessly.  The rest of the group began to follow.

• • •

Hamilton paced back and forth.  Peggy, ankle still feeling as though it were on fire, stayed put on the ground.  Hamilton stopped pacing, picked up his bag, and urged Peggy to follow him.

"We need to keep moving," he declared.  "John and Frances could be miles away by now."

"We need to rest," Peggy argued.

"You got your rest last night!"

"But you didn't!"

"I know," he laughed bitterly.  It was clear that he was sleep deprived.  "You wanna know how I know?" he asked.  "It's 'cause I was awake all night worrying about my husband and daughter, and keeping watch so your sorry ass doesn't get eaten alive!" he shouted.  At the end of his wits and feeling like he was going to break down, Hamilton began to storm back and forth again.  He muttered to himself while doing so.  Out loud, to Peggy, he said, "Come with me right now or I'm going by myself.”

“Why the fuck are you so worried?”

“Because I fucking love him, you bitch! Why are you acting like this?!” he yelled, groping his hair. He looked down at her. 

Peggy stood from the ground, brushed the dirt off her ass, and began onward. Hamilton quickly followed and muttered a couple more curses under his breath.

“Thanks,” he said at last, “for coming along.”

“You’re too dependent on him.”

“What?”

“John. You’re so attached, it’s like you’re tethered and stuck and you panic at the mere thought of not being next to him 24/7.”

“Pegs, this is a different situation.”

“Alexander,” she said sternly, “he’s mentally ill.”

“Caring for somebody who is mentally ill is difficult, okay? I know,” Hamilton grumbled. He stared at the ground as he walked. “But I love John and Frances. And John isn’t so ill that he can’t take care of himself or me. He does take care of me and his daughter. It’s a two-way thing.”

“I get that.”

“Really? ‘Cause you don’t act like you do.”

“I do. But he was toxic from the start. He has serious baggage, what with—”

“Peggy, I know. You don’t even know the half of it. But what happened wasn’t his fault, and coming back from Afghanistan was difficult. He’s broken. But we needed each other, okay? I love him. And if you love me, you won’t talk about this anymore.”

Peggy stayed silent for a long time. “Fine. Let’s just keep moving, then.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry that this is a short chapter. Haven’t had time to write lately, been stacked with wayyy too much homework. I suppose that voids the chapter title hahaha.


End file.
